Only One Shall Stand
by BlondMoments
Summary: "I have always wanted adventure," Aileen told them, "but not like this. It was not supposed to happen this way. My parents were not supposed to die at the hands of a Howe." She spat the name like a curse. "And now, I'm going to kill the bastard no matter what it takes. Even if it consumes me." Strong head-canon, slight AU. Part I of my Aileenistair series. Currently rated T.
1. An Introduction

_Only One Shall Stand_

**An Introduction**

Hello to all my readers! Thanks for taking interest in _Only One Shall Stand_, Part I of my _Aileenistair_ series. If you just want to get to the story, jump straight to the **Prologue**, but this **Introduction** exists for a few points of interest.

Disclaimer: For starters, I would like to say that, albeit sadly, I have no legal rights to any of the characters or stories or creatures from BioWare's amazing game, _Dragon Age: Origins_, nor do I claim any such rights. (Also, BioWare might as well own me, given the amount of time I've devoted to playing games and writing fan fiction.) However, Aileen Cousland is _mine_, as is her history and personality. Hands off. ;)

Inspiration: Alistair, of course. X'D As for the name, I really wanted this fan fiction to be more about Aileen and her hatred for Arl Howe, which, ultimately, almost consumes her. I had a few different titles in mind, including "_Only One Shall Stand_," which became the tentative title. Then, as I was replaying the game, my character shouted, "Only one shall stand!" during battle, and the name became canon. It was DESTINY. Haha.

Synopsis: _Only One Shall Stand_ focuses on Aileen Cousland, the daughter of Teyrn Bryce Cousland, and her journey as she becomes a Grey Warden and must unite Ferelden against the Fifth Blight. It also takes her through her burning hatred for Arl Howe, as well as her blossoming relationship with, and ultimately love for, Alistair.

Discrepancies: After reading David Gaider's novels, _Dragon Age: The Stolen Throne_ and _Dragon Age: The Calling_ – which I believe are _canon_ and override anything which takes place in the video game _Dragon Age: Origins_ – I've realized that there are some inconsistencies between the novels and the game. I will do my best to find a nice compromise between the two. Not everything will be revealed in _Only One Shall Stand_, but in its sequels, instead. Gaider's novels _will_ play a heavy role in the composition of this fan fiction; and if you haven't read his work already... *SPOILER WARNING!* :P

Things to Note:

1) As _Only One Shall Stand_ is fan fiction, there will obviously be fictitious elements about it. I will try my best to balance the realistic elements with the fantastic.  
(For example: In the game, it is possible for female characters to be stronger than men based on their class, and then their specialisation within that class. Aileen Cousland is a warrior who wields a two-handed weapon; as such, her "Strength" is highest of the types of warriors. Therefore, Aileen is as strong as [or stronger than] most men. To keep things from being too... strange, men are automatically stronger than women who are of the same class as them.)

2) DLCs make an appearance.

3) _Only One Shall Stand_ is (primarily) written in the third person limited point of view, and will jump around to get inside different characters' heads. From whose view the writing is told will be stated; time and/or location jumps are indicated by: ")-(".

4) Thoughts and flashbacks are portrayed through _italics_, as are emphasized words_._ If a word within italics is emphasized, it is **bolded.**

5) I use Thedas's calendar to keep track of time in the story. The Fereldan "low" names are used instead of the names in the Tevinter tongue.

6) If words are spoken in Orlesian, I will use French. If words are spoken in Antivan, I will use Spanish. For Tevene… we'll see.

7) This is my racial height scale, just for reference:  
6'7" to 6'10" / 2.01m to 2.08m (average 6'8" / 2.03m) - Qunari (Kossith) males & females  
5'6" to 6'3" / 1.68m to 1.91m (average 5'11" / 1.80m) - Human males  
5'2" to 5'9" / 1.57m to 1.75m (average 5'6" / 1.68m) - Human females  
5'4" to 5'6" / 1.63m to 1.68m (average 5'5" / 1.65m) - Elven males  
5'0" to 5'5" / 1.52m to 1.65m (average 5'3" / 1.60m) - Elven females  
4'2" to 4'6" / 1.27m to 1.37m (average 4'4" / 1.32m) - Dwarven males & females  
There is some crossover between the races and genders, but I think it gives more realistic variety (i.e. some Human women can be taller than Human men, et cetera.).

8) There will be vulgar language, alcohol, and sexual themes. _You've been warned. _;)

9) I like the number 9. Neverwinter Nights influenced me, what can I say? X'D

So this isn't as brief as I had hoped it would be. But that's all right.

A huge, "Thank you!" goes to **Rockbell99**, my real-life best friend who knows absolutely nothing about _Dragon Age_ but reads this anyway. Many thanks also go to **alyssacousland**,** CouslandSpitFire**,** Graymalkyn**,** KitKat Cousland**,** Morninglight**, and **sn0w0wl** for their encouragement and support as I have written this.

Please, enjoy reading _Only One Shall Stand_, Part I of my _Aileenistair_ series!


	2. Prologue

_Only One Shall Stand_

**Prologue**

_15 Wintermarch, 9:11 Dragon. Vigil's Keep._

"Teyrn Loghain! I must say, this is a pleasant surprise."

"The pleasure is all mine, Rendon," said Loghain, firmly shaking the Arl of Amaranthine's hand.

"To what do I owe this _great _honor?" Arl Howe asked.

Loghain's icy cold eyes showed no emotion. "You sent me a letter. I came."

"Right to business, as always," Howe grumbled. "Please, come into my office."

Loghain followed Rendon up two flights of stairs in Vigil's Keep and Rendon locked his office door behind them. He sat down in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk, and Loghain sat across from him.

"I heard Maric went on an expedition," Arl Howe said in a light tone. He began tapping a wicked-looking dagger on the desk with a steady rhythm.

"We're here to discuss the letter," Loghain stated.

Howe rolled his eyes. "What of it?"

"You accuse this nation's greatest family of treason. I want to know what proof you have."

Rendon smirked. "The Cousland-and-Howe history goes back several centuries, all the way to the Age of Towers."

Loghain sighed with exasperation and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Am I to be given a history lesson?"

"You need to hear this. Highever once belonged to my family, you know. Amaranthine and Highever were both held by my family. Amaranthine by the Howes, and Highever by the Elstans, some cousins of ours. Do you follow me?"

Loghain gestured for Rendon to continue.

"Conobar Elstan was mysteriously killed, and since he had no heirs, his captain of the guard took possession of the Higheverian lands. That captain was Sarim Cousland."

Loghain's eyebrows rose.

"He fought for Highever's independence and won. Half of the Howes' land went to the Couslands. Highever became a teyrnir during the Black Age—"

"—During the lycanthrope plague, yes. Does this have a point?"

"And you know that the Couslands initially fought against Calenhad, yes?"

"But they were allowed the keep the teyrnir anyway."

Howe nodded. "Precisely. And what did the Howes get for their loyalty? _Nothing._"

Loghain rolled his eyes. "So you hold a grudge against the Couslands. I see nothing that proves they are traitors." Loghain stood. "There is no point to this." He had walked all the way to the door before Howe spoke again.

"They are conspiring with Orlais."

Loghain froze. Maker knew that man _hated _Orlesians. "Before you go casting blame," he retorted, "you should remember that _your father _sided with Orlais during the rebellion."

"Ah! But I turned that around." Rendon shuffled through some papers on his desk. "You should take a look at these." He slid the papers across the desk.

Loghain walked back to the desk. Rendon still had his feet propped up. "These are trading missives," Loghain stated.

"The Couslands are sending weapons to Orlais."

Loghain pursed his lips. "That's hardly treasonous. Maric opened trade with Orlais several years ago."

"But these do not bear the royal seal."

Loghain looked again, and saw that Rendon was correct. "You could have forged these," Loghain accused. "I am a sensible man, and I will not jump to hasty conclusions. When you have firm evidence against the Couslands, we shall speak further. Until then, good day." Loghain stood and headed to the door.

"Watch your back. You never know what a Cousland might do to you." Howe stared at Loghain as he left and listened for his steps down the stairs. "_Fuck!_" he spat, and stabbed the dagger through the letters. He let loose a series of four-letter obscenities of which his wife would have disapproved. _I'll get you yet, Bryce_, he thought bitterly. _I have children who will be __**bred **__to hate your family. Just you wait._

)-(

_2 Cloudreach, 9:25 Dragon. Highever._

"Maker's breath!" Aileen whispered with wide eyes. "I—" she stopped. She was by herself in her bedroom, and she scarcely believed her own revelation. _The dizziness, the vomiting, the fainting…_ _it __**can't**__ be._ "I'm…"

Aileen swallowed and looked at her reflection with alarm. She barely recognized the young woman staring back at her. _How could I have been so foolish?_ she asked herself. She turned every which way, looking for any physical evidence of her problem. Aileen swallowed again and turned around, very _carefully _climbing under her bed to locate the small lockbox which resided under a loose stone slab. Using the key around her neck, she unlocked the box and shuffled through it, retrieving the letter she had stuffed under every other thing in there.

'_Aileen_,' the letter read, '_I'm sorry to have to tell you this in a letter. I'm leaving for the Free Marches immediately to become a squire and I don't plan on returning. Whatever I thought we had was a mistake. Please, just'—_

Aileen's tears kept her from reading further, but she knew what the rest of it said. _He _was a liar. '_We have something special_,' he had said, and then he turned around and _left._ He _left _her. She refused to even think _his_ name. _I was such a fool_, she thought, _to have believed __**you**__, to have __**trusted **__you._

Aileen stuffed the letter back in the box and locked it. Contacting _him _was not an option. There was always the 'brother-takes-responsibility' road, but… Aileen liked that option less. Besides, his brother was even younger than she. She couldn't tell her parents – they would be furious with her for being so senseless. But this secret couldn't stay in the dark forever. Eventually, it would rear its ugly head, so to speak. Aileen would have been amused at her choice of words had she not been scared out of her mind.

_This can't be happening_, thought Aileen. _Not to me. Not to the eighteen-year-old daughter – the __**only **__daughter – of Teyrn Bryce Cousland. Without __**him**__…_

Aileen picked up the skirt of her dress and ran as fast as she could to the Chantry. She felt tears spilling onto her cheeks, and she accidentally collided with one of the guards stationed in the castle and fell down. He did a double take when he realized who it was – rarely did one see Aileen running, much less falling, without great cause. Nor did one see her crying.

"My lady Cousland! Are you all right?" He offered his hand to help her stand.

Aileen ignored his concern and kept going, not bothering to brush off the dirt from her now-soiled dress. She stopped running only when she arrived outside the Chantry doors. Aileen breathed deeply to calm herself and she ran her fingers through her hair. She wiped the wetness from her cheeks and took one last deep breath before opening the door.

"Mother Mallol?"

She was the only one inside at the moment. The Chantry within Highever Castle itself had few brothers and sisters. There were numerous scrolls and books occupying the pews and lying on the floor.

"How many times must I tell you to just call me, 'Mallol'?" she asked with a smile. "Please, come in."

Aileen did as she was told and she shut the door behind her.

Mallol set down the scrolls she had been holding. "Is everything all right, child? You don't look well."

"I need to speak with you privately," Aileen said too quickly. Then, she added, "If you are not busy, I mean."

"Never too busy for you, my dear," said Mallol. She gestured to her office and locked the door once the two were inside. "Have a seat."

"No… I'd—I'd r-rather stand." Aileen's voice had broken and her eyes were brimming with tears again.

Mallol touched Aileen's shoulder. "What in Thedas is going on?"

Aileen threw her arms around Mallol, openly sobbing. "I've… m-made a t-t-terrible mistak-ke!" she managed to mumble through gasps and sobs.

)-(

_17 Kingsway, 9:29 Dragon. Highever._

_Here – no, __**here**__ – no, no!_

Aileen nearly threw the delicate flower at her mirror in frustration. She wanted to pin the violet-coloured orchid in her hair, but she couldn't seem to find the right place for it. _It has to look just __**so**_, she thought, hearing her mother's voice speaking through her mind. She did not want it to be too forthcoming, else it would distract from her eyes; nor did she want it too far off to the side, or it would stick out from her head and look ridiculous. And if it were too high or too low—

"Darling?"

It was Eleanor, Aileen's mother. Richter, Aileen's mabari warhound, perked his ears up and settled back into his nap. Aileen took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly. _Do not say anything you will regret_, she told herself.

"Yes, Mother?"

"Are you—may I come in?"

Aileen looked around briefly. She had no less than four dresses on the floor; there were several pairs of shoes scattered about and cosmetics littered the vanity. Eleanor would hate to see Aileen's room in this state.

"Of course."

Aileen looked in the mirror at Eleanor's reflection as she opened the oak door. She could see that her mother was, as expected, upset with the chaos. Aileen looked back at her own reflection before Eleanor made eye contact with her. Much to Aileen's surprise, her mother did not comment on the untidiness. Instead, she asked:

"Are you almost ready? The king is expected any moment now, and we're supposed to meet him at the city gates."

"Yes, Mother."

"Aileen?"

"Yes, Mother?"

"You're not fully dressed."

Aileen rolled her eyes behind closed lids. "All I have to do is lace it up in the back."

"And shoes. You need shoes."

"I'm wearing shoes."

Eleanor closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "You will not wear those clunky leather boots with that dress."

"Well, I'm not walking a three miles' walk in shoes with beads on the toe and lifts on the heels."

"Aileen, you exaggerate. It's barely a half-mile walk, and you _will_ wear a different pair of shoes."

Aileen pressed her lips into a line. All their conversations went like this, as they had for years.

"Yes, Mother."

"Aileen?"

"Yes, Mother?"

Eleanor sighed. "Please stop responding to me like that." She unlaced Aileen's dress a little more to verify that the corset was taut, and laced her dress fully. "I only wanted to see if you needed help with anything."

"No, thank you," Aileen said, even though she was still fussing with the flower.

Eleanor touched Aileen's shoulder and gently turned her daughter toward herself. She calmly held out her hand and waited for Aileen to hand the flower to her. Aileen clenched and unclenched her jaw before giving the orchid to her mother. Eleanor took a pin and placed the flower in her daughter's long, dark brown hair. Aileen glanced in the mirror and saw that the orchid looked perfect. She took a short breath.

"Thank you," she said, managing to sound genuine.

Eleanor nodded. "Let's go, shall we? We can't keep the king waiting."

Aileen smirked when her mother wasn't looking. _No, we certainly cannot keep Cailan waiting._ She gave herself one last inspection in the mirror. The light blue dress had long sleeves which perfectly fit over Aileen's strongly-muscled arms, due to her training with two-handed weapons. The neckline swooped low to reveal a little of her larger-than-average-for-her-stature breasts. Her waist-length, dark brown hair hung in natural waves and her sea-blue eyes shone brightly. Aileen turned on her heel and headed toward her bedroom door.

"Aileen?"

"Yes, Mother?"

Eleanor rolled her eyes. She knew her daughter was feigning submission. "Shoes," she said simply.

Aileen took a deep breath meant to conceal a sigh and grabbed the nearest pair of shoes. They didn't match her dress, but it was better than the fur-lined leather boots. Aileen very elegantly stormed out of her room in the uncomfortable shoes. She had mastered this art as a child – she could look like she were walking normally while making certain her steps echoed as loudly as possible through the stone building by slamming her toes down after her heels. Eleanor followed after her daughter more slowly.

"There you are!" Bryce Cousland said when Aileen reached the city gates.

"Hello, Father," Aileen greeted with a genuine smile. "And good morning, Fergus," she said to her brother.

"I don't know why you say that every day. Mornings are never, 'good,'" Fergus retorted. He looked very tired, but he smiled at his younger sister all the same.

"Where is Eleanor?" Bryce asked.

The smile faded from Aileen's face. "She's behind me somewhere. I am sure she won't be long."

Bryce nodded. "King Cailan should be here any moment."

"Why is he coming, exactly?"

Bryce's face turned grave. "He is… here to discuss—"

"M'lord!" one of the guards called from a watchtower. "The king approaches!"

"Open the gates, please!" Bryce yelled back.

"Aye, Ser!"

"What were you saying? Is there to be a war? Might I come to the meeting?" Aileen asked excitedly.

Bryce laughed. "I'll tell you later, Pup."

Eleanor arrived and she touched Bryce's hand with hers, upon which he grasped and kissed it. He rubbed her hand thoughtfully but said nothing.

Cailan looked the same as when Aileen last saw him, save the ever lengthening of his white-blonde hair. He had dazzling blue-with-a-hint-of-green eyes and pale skin. His cheeks and forehead were pink from the sunlight he had received during the ride to her home, but he was altogether handsome. He smiled at Aileen as his horse trotted into the city. There were several other armoured men on horses as well, and one man was wearing a black, hooded cloak.

"Welcome, King Cailan!" Bryce said enthusiastically. Every member of the Cousland family bowed.

Cailan dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to a waiting stable boy. He pushed the sweaty blonde hair out of his face and grinned boyishly.

"Oh, stand up straight, Bryce!" he said cheerily. "It is always a pleasure to visit Highever."

Bryce and Fergus shook hands with the king.

"Don't you have a wife?" Cailan asked Fergus.

"Aye, and a son, your Majesty. Oriana is feeling under the weather today."

_Oriana hasn't been well for several weeks_, Aileen thought.

"Well, I should like to meet her before I leave," Cailan said with a smile. He was always smiling. "She is Antivan, is she not? I'd like to see if the legends of those women are true."

Fergus smiled uneasily.

"You forget you have a wife in Denerim, Cailan," said a man whose voice Aileen instantly recognized as Teyrn Loghain's. He had icy blue eyes and black hair that was greying.

"It was only a jest, Loghain," said Cailan. "Lighten up a bit."

Loghain Mac Tir grunted and said nothing.

Cailan kissed the hands of both Eleanor and Aileen, and when Aileen straightened from her curtsy, she caught Cailan's eyes with her own. He stared at her longer than was acceptable for a married man. Loghain narrowed his cold eyes at the exchange.

"I would love it if I could have a tour of the city later," Cailan said, letting Aileen's hand fall. "I have not been here in some time."

"Of course, your Majesty," replied Bryce.

"We have much to discuss, Cailan," Teyrn Loghain said.

"Always straight to business with you," Cailan said, shaking his head but smiling anyway. "You are right, however. Bryce"—Cailan turned to the Teyrn of Highever—"would you lead us to our meeting place?"

Bryce nodded and walked back toward the castle with Eleanor at his side. "Of course, your Majesty. Fergus will accompany us, and"—Bryce gestured to his daughter—"Aileen has expressed an interest in attending the meeting. Might she join us?"

"Of course!" Cailan replied with a smile.

Fergus brought up the rear of the party and elbowed Aileen. "Good for you, Sis!"

She elbowed him back. "I want to know what's happening firsthand and not through hearsay."

"These can be rather boring, you know."

Aileen jumped in front her brother and placed her hands on her hips, causing him to nearly stumble over her. "Are you trying to deter me from attending?"

Fergus chuckled. "Not at all."

Aileen crossed her arms and stuck out her lower jaw. Fergus mimicked her; and when Aileen rolled her eyes, he did likewise. There was no mistaking that the two were siblings. They had the same dark brown, wavy hair and fair skin. Though their eyes were of different colours – Aileen's were blue and Fergus's were brown – they were of the same shape: between round and almond, so the whole of their irises were visible. They had the same teeth and smile, and their voices and laughs were very much alike.

"We're falling behind," said Fergus. He nudged his younger sister and they began walking again.

"They'll wait for us," Aileen said.

Fergus smirked. "They'd wait for me, certainly. But you, I think not."

"What are y—"

"Beat you there!" Fergus took off in a dead sprint, laughing.

"_He-ey!_" Aileen called after him. She began running without thinking and stepped on the skirt of her long, light blue dress. She tripped and almost fell face-first on the dirty street – luckily, she had decent balance, for a warrior. Aileen recovered and brushed off the dirt from her dress. It was now stained, but if her mother didn't see, then Aileen would be all right. Her feet hurt from trying to run in the preposterous shoes her mother had forced her to wear. She stood up and saw Fergus snickering at her from a little ways ahead. His loose clothing and leather boots had allowed him to move freely; and, for a moment, Aileen wished she were male. Fergus stayed, waiting for Aileen to catch up with him; and when she did, he pretended to trip over his own feet and laughed heartily.

"Oh, do shut up, Fergus," Aileen said with a sigh. "_You _try to run in a dress and stupid shoes. I think I have blisters already."

"It must be dreadful to be a girl."

"It is! If Mother had her way, I would never have learned to defend myself."

Fergus chuckled. "That's true." The Cousland siblings were not too far behind the rest of the party, but were well out of earshot. "So," he said quietly, "what was all that about? With King Cailan?"

Aileen's lips twitched. "It's nothing."

Her brother scoffed. "It didn't look like nothing."

Aileen was silent for a moment. "I cannot tell you anything right now."

"Is he going to divorce Anora?!"

"_Shh!_" Aileen hissed. "Not right now."

Fergus nodded solemnly. The two walked briskly to Castle Cousland, barely noticing the Highever residents who whispered of the king and rumoured of what news he might bring. They caught up with the rest of the men and entered the war room with them. Bryce tried to offer the chair at the head of the table to Cailan, but Cailan insisted Bryce keep his seat. Instead, Cailan sat at the middle of the table.

"Fergus, Aileen," Bryce called to his children. He had Fergus sit at his right hand and Aileen at his left. Aileen was overjoyed to actually get _be _in this room, let alone sit at the table. Loghain sat across from Cailan, and Aileen noticed that she was not the only woman present in the room – another sat at Loghain's right hand. (Eleanor had excused herself from this meeting, not desiring to become involved with this business.) The other woman had jet black hair pulled into a tight ponytail and deeply set, dark grey-blue eyes. She looked very stern with her longer face, thin lips, and high, prominent cheek bones; and it was difficult to call her pretty. After everyone was seated and the door was locked, Cailan stood.

"Now, before we begin, I want to thank you for letting us into your home, Bryce, on such short notice."

"No thanks is necessary, your Majesty," Teyrn Cousland said.

Cailan smiled quickly, but it faded just as fast. "There is much to discuss." He took a deep breath. "I have been informed by several members of the Grey Wardens that we shall soon have a Blight on our lands." He stopped.

Aileen felt shivers travel through her body. No one dared to speak. _A Blight?_ Aileen wondered. _I thought the darkspawn were eradicated by the last one…_

Bryce leaned forward in his chair. "Are you… certain of this?" The usual collected tone Aileen's father kept was inching toward nervousness. It made Aileen feel uneasy. "I knew there was something amiss when you asked how many able-bodied men I had, but… are you sure?"

"I wish I weren't," Cailan replied. "It is difficult to listen just based on their word, but this information, coupled with reports from the Dwarves of Orzammar that the darkspawn are pulling back from the city makes me quite certain the Wardens are telling the truth."

"Are there Wardens in Ferelden at present?" Aileen asked.

Both Bryce and Fergus had shocked eyes, and Aileen realized too late that she had spoken out of turn. Bryce leaned back, shut his eyes, and bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did so. Fergus scratched his chin and stared at his sister. _What were you thinking?_ his eyes seemed to say.

"There are, as a matter of fact," Cailan said after the awkward silence. He gestured and nodded to a man in fine leather armor who wore a black cloak with the hood pulled over his head. The hooded man stood slowly and put his dark hood back, revealing his darker hair and eyes which looked like they used to be blue but were now a silvery grey. Puzzlement found its way onto Bryce's face.

"I am Riordan," the cloaked man said. His accent was noticeably Orlesian, Aileen noted. His voice rose and fell in an unnatural, musical pattern, but his accent didn't sound quite… right. "I am a Senior Warden of Jader in Orlais. But, m'lord," he said, looking at Bryce, "I was born and bred in Highever, and it is good to be home.

"I _knew _I recognized you!" Bryce exclaimed. "It is good to see you well, Ser Riordan."

_And that would explain the mixed accent_, Aileen mentally noted.

Riordan smiled. "And you, Teyrn Cousland. To answer the young lady's question: Yes, there are Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Duncan, Ferelden's Warden-Commander, has been here for some time. Currently he is looking for recruits elsewhere in the country. And to answer the bigger question: We have… indisputable evidence that a Blight will hit Ferelden soon."

"Yet he refuses to tell us _how_ he knows," Teyrn Loghain said with an exasperated tone. There was an edgy silence, and at length, Loghain stood as well. "Maric told me before he died that a Blight would come. I kept hoping I would die before that day," he grumbled. "I didn't want to believe him at first, but it seems prophecies come true, after all." Loghain bent over and placed his hands on the low table. "We will need as many forces as possible. The majourity of men will come from the chief arlings – Denerim, Amaranthine, Redcliffe – and our teyrnirs, Bryce… provided you _do _supply the men."

Aileen narrowed her eyes at Gwaren's Teyrn, but Bryce's face did not so much as flinch from the biting comment. "I would not keep my men and myself here, Mac Tir," he said. "A Blight requires everyone's attention. And Highever has the _most _soldiers out of all the Fereldan cities. It would be foolish to hide here while our troops could be of use somewhere else."

Loghain grunted, and his hooded eyes gave away no emotion.

"Bryce is on our side, Loghain," said Cailan. "He promises to provide the forces we ask, yes?"

"Aye, I swear it," Bryce stated firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Good. Glad that that's settled." Cailan's perpetual smiled resumed. "I needed to make sure you were on board with us before we went to any other cities. Amaranthine is the next stop."

"Will you rest here for the night?" Bryce asked. "You have been riding all morning, have you not?"

Cailan opened his mouth to speak, but Loghain interrupted him:

"That won't be necessary."

"Nonsense, Loghain!" Cailan contradicted. "That would be appreciated, Bryce. Thank you."

Bryce nodded. "No trouble, your Majesty."

Loghain grunted and gave an icy glare to Aileen, who felt like hiding behind her father.

"It's settled then. Now, about that tour…" Cailan's eyes fell on Aileen. "I would love it if your daughter would do me the honour, Bryce," he said with a smile.

Bryce glanced at his daughter. "Of course. I'm sure she would be delighted."

And with that, the meeting was adjourned. Aileen couldn't believe what she'd heard – a _Blight? Why here, why now?_ It was both frightening and exciting. Oh, how Aileen wished she would be able to go…

"Are you ready, your Majesty?" Aileen asked Cailan. She couldn't call him by his first name only while others were around, and _especially _while Loghain was around.

"Yes, my lady!" Cailan replied with enthusiasm.

"Is there something specific you'd like to see?"

"Hmm," Cailan sounded. "Highever is a port city, is it not?"

"Would you like to see the coast?"

"You read my mind."

Aileen led Cailan north to the coast. There were always ships docked, with cargo coming off the ships or going on them. Highever was the most prominent city in Ferelden, and nearly all trade between Ferelden and its neighbors – Nevarra, Antiva, and the Free Marches – took place here. Trade with Orlais normally transpired in Amaranthine's port or overland, due to Orlais's location.

Cailan took a deep breath. "It is magnificent. Denerim's coast doesn't smell nearly as good as this."

"I often come here to read or write," said Aileen, "when it's summer, of course. In a few weeks it will be too cold to come outside." She removed her tight shoes and pressed her toes into the sand. She lifted the skirt of her dress to look at her feet, and, sure enough, there were blisters on her last toes. Aileen became aware that Cailan was dangerously close behind her. She swallowed and stood straight, letting her chest rise and fall in a sensual way. She sensed Cailan come closer… closer, until she shivered when his fingers stroked her arm. Aileen felt Cailan towering over her short frame.

"What are you doing, Cailan?" Aileen asked innocently. Now that they were alone, they didn't have to be formal. His fingers went down the length of her arm until he captured her hand in his.

"What does it feel like, Aileen?" His lips brushed against her hair.

Aileen moaned. "It _feels _like you haven't been writing lies for two years. That your letters tell the truth."

"Mm-mm, indeed they do." Cailan turned Aileen around so he could see her face. "How much does your family know?"

"Fergus suspects. I don't think Father knows, but he's not stupid. Mother and I rarely speak: I doubt she knows a thing. And what of Anora and Loghain?"

"I suspect after today, Loghain is very suspicious. Anora doesn't have a clue."

Aileen nodded. The constant icy glare from Loghain was well-deserved.

"But with this news of a Blight, I don't plan on angering Loghain. I need him. It will be a while before I can do anything."

"That's fine," said Aileen. "I will wait."

Cailan rubbed Aileen's cheek with his thumb and he leaned down to kiss her. Aileen drew back a fraction of an inch before relenting to Cailan. She was eager to let her heart love someone again. It had been too long…

And behind the city wall which overlooked the ocean stood Loghain, watching the exchange. _Well,_ he thought as he stormed away, _it is __**definitely **__time to pay Rendon a visit…_

)-(

_20 Kingsway, 9:29 Dragon. Kirkwall._

After a long day of riding and training, he decided to retire to return to the inn in which he stayed. He pushed his long, sweaty black hair out of his face as he sat at the bar and pushed two coppers to the bartender, ordering a bottle of whiskey.

"Anything for me?"

The bartender, Corff, shook his head.

He wondered sometimes why he asked the same question every day. There were never any letters for him. Sometimes he thought that he, the eldest son of a noble, was oft more forgotten than his younger brother and sister. But who was he to disobey his father's wishes?

At least he knew that it would be worth it. In the end, traveling for five years, maybe more, would be completely worth it. He had a woman – his Fey – waiting for him back in Ferelden. They would marry; he was certain of it. They would marry and have children and be very happy together. She would be twenty-three, soon… And he would be twenty-nine, for that matter. He tried to conjure Fey's face in his mind… but it had been nearly five years, and it was difficult for him to see her. The nose and lips came after a few seconds of thought – her nose was small and elegant and her lips were full and pink. He felt his heartbeat quicken as he remembered kissing those lips, so long ago. He refocused and again thought of her other features. Fey's blue eyes were delicately shaped and her chin was small but stubborn. And her hair was shoulder-length and light brown… at least, last he saw her. Her hair might be shorter or longer now. Girls were always changing their hair. She was small and thin and agile, and not at all strong. He remembered holding her slim, pale hand in his own… passionately kissing her lips… tenderly loving her in his room…

He became aware that there was someone sitting next to him. He glanced left and saw Leah, one of the local prostitutes. He sighed.

"How many times do I have to tell you, 'No'?"

"Until you stop refusing," Leah said. She rubbed his muscular arm with her hand, and he had to hold his breath. Thinking of Fey had aroused him, and Leah's touch wasn't helping. But he had promised himself that he would stay faithful to his Fey.

"You need to leave," he said, taking a long swig of his drink.

Leah persisted. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Just one night, honey, come on."

He scoffed. "You don't even know my name."

"Corff here will tell me, won't you, Corff?" Leah looked with wide eyes at the bartender. Corff looked at the clearly irritated man, who subtly shook his head.

"Sorry, lil' lady. I don' give out pers'nal information."

Leah sighed. "Well, then, I can just give you a name. What about Marcus? Marc, for short? Or maybe Thomas?"

The dark-haired man stiffened.

"Oh, Thomas, is it? Is that your real name?"

"No."

"Your father's name, then?"

"Wrong again."

"Why don't you tell—"

The black-haired man stood quickly and turned around, causing Leah to lose her balance. She looked at him with her wide, brown eyes in expectation.

"I said, 'You need to leave,' and I meant it. I don't need a whore, and I don't want one. Now get out of my sight."

Leah flexed her jaw at him and gave him a middle fingered-salute. "Fuck you," she said, and the black-haired man smiled at her word choice. "There's plenty of other men around here who'd _love _to get some of this." She left with all the dignity she could muster, which was quite a bit for her profession. He absently wondered if she was a prostitute out of necessity, and pitied her.

Still, he wouldn't give up four – nearly five – years of chastity for some girl he barely knew. After all, his father had commanded him to make certain that he left behind no bastards during his time as a squire, but it was his own conviction and commitment to Fey that had kept him from sleeping with anyone thus far.

"Why do you keep her around?" he asked Corff.

The bartender shrugged. "She keeps people here fer 'nother night longer 'an usual, which means more coin fer me."

He raised his dark brows at the reply and swallowed some more of his drink. _A couple more years here and I'll be able to go home_, he told himself.

_Only a couple years…_

* * *

Author's Note: A-and the stage is set. Yes, I'm spelling certain words differently, because I have a real-life best friend who spells words like, 'color,' and, 'favor,' as, 'colour,' and 'favour,' respectively. I will also spell some (but not all) words with '-re' instead of '-er,' such as 'theatre,' 'centre,' and so on. I think it adds to the medieval tone of the story. And, yes, I'm purposefully being mysterious and discreet with certain matters. If you've already figured out what is going on: good for you, and don't spoil it for everyone else! If not: wait and see, because I'm sure you'll love it.  
As a quick note, Aileen's name is pronounced "_i-LEEN_", with a long _i_ and a long _e_, and emphasis on the second syllable.  
I would appreciate your feedback! :)


	3. Ch 1 - A Conspiracy Breweth

**Chapter 1 – A Conspiracy Breweth**

_Loghain Mac Tir_

"This Blight business… this isn't a lie, is it?" asked Rendon Howe. He retrieved two glasses from the cupboard in his office and poured some wine into one and whiskey in the other. When Loghain did not immediately reply, Howe quickly swallowed his drink and poured himself another glass.

Loghain held his drink carefully and looked very deep in thought.

"Well?"

"I don't know what to think," Loghain said at length, more to himself than to his host. "All I know is that we're trusting some _Orlesian _Grey Wardens whose Order once tried to usurp the Fereldan throne." Loghain looked down at his drink and sipped the dark wine. It was sweet, but had just enough bite to keep Loghain from downing the alcohol like Rendon did. "Some very secretive, very suspicious Orlesians, I might add."

"If there's one thing that never changes about you, Mac Tir, it's your hatred for Orlesians." Rendon Howe chuckled and swished around the liquid in his glass.

Loghain grunted. He flared his nostrils as he remembered being forced to watch his mother be raped by an Orlesian.

"That, and your tendency to think deeply during conversation."

Loghain cast an icy glare at Rendon. "And if there's one thing that never changes about you, it's your taste for whiskey," he fired back.

Rendon shrugged and began filling his glass a third time. "Talking to our incompetent king always makes me need a drink. And I don't have to listen to anyone about my drinking habits anymore because my wife is dead."

Loghain wondered how Rendon could speak of his wife in that way. He would never have spoken of Celia or… or Rowan like that. Perhaps Rendon had never loved his wife.

"You missed something," said Rendon.

Loghain's eyebrow rose in questioning.

"My taste for whiskey—and my hatred for the Couslands."

Teyrn Loghain nodded slowly. "Yes, about that…"

Rendon leaned in closely, with expectation written all over his face.

"The Cousland girl, Aileen? Cailan fancies her. And with Anora not producing an heir…" Loghain's voice trailed off.

"You think he'll put your daughter aside and marry the Cousland bitch?"

"That is precisely what I think."

Rendon smirked. "Didn't I tell you to watch your back with them?"

"That was nearly twenty years ago," Loghain noted, sipping his wine. "This doesn't prove your Orlesian-alliance theory, but it _does _give me reason to watch the Couslands closely."

"That's the spirit!" Rendon finished the last of his third glass of whiskey but, much to Loghain's surprise, Rendon did not refill his drink. "I knew it was only a matter of time. I… _do _have a plan that could keep Anora on the throne, provided you are in this with me."

Loghain's eyebrow rose again. "What might that be?"

"Oh, just a little public humiliation, followed by a trial for treason, in which the Couslands will be found guilty and sentenced to death."

Now horror filled Loghain's expression. "You mean to end the Cousland line?"

"That is exactly what I mean to do."

Loghain shook his head. "I won't allow that."

Rendon narrowed his eyes. "You just—"

"I never _agreed _to do what you want," Loghain interrupted. His face turned as icy as his eyes. "This is madness."

"I can't let you leave with the information I told you."

"Are you threatening me?" Loghain asked, standing so quickly his wine spilled onto the carpet.

Rendon looked at the floor with annoyance. "No. I'm suggesting we _negotiate_."

"Well, this is _non-negotiable_ – the Couslands live, no matter their crimes. They shouldn't suffer because _Cailan _is infatuated with one of them."

Rendon rolled his eyes. "Fine. The Couslands live, but I want Highever."

"And how do you propose taking it?"

"With these," Rendon said as he set a stack of papers on the table.

Loghain glanced through them and saw more trading missives between Highever and Orlais. They bore no royal seal and they looked authentic.

"Are they?" Loghain asked.

"Are they what?"

"Oh. Are they authentic?"

"Yes," said Rendon.

Loghain looked up at him. Rendon could have been lying – he was a _very _good liar. Rendon could probably have told people that he was a fifteen-foot Dwarf and they would have believed him, provided they weren't looking. Loghain made the mistake of not watching Rendon when he had replied.

"Are they?"

"Yes," Rendon repeated, sighing this time. Loghain could tell no difference.

"_If _you take Highever, what becomes of the Couslands?"

Rendon shrugged. "We send them to Antiva, or Par Vollen, or someplace far away. They'd be exiled for their treason."

"And this takes place _after _the Blight, _if _it happens?"

"Yes, of course."

Loghain found the man impossibly difficult to read. "Is there anyone else?"

"In on the plan? My son."

"Don't you have two?"

Rendon frowned. "No. Thomas is my only son now. The _other one_," he spat,_ "_went soft on the Couslands and I sent him away."

"This is madness," Loghain said again. "You would place your hatred for the Couslands before your own family. I _don't _want Anora to be set aside, but I will _not _be involved with—"

"Forget deposing the Couslands!" Rendon shouted. His eyes widened briefly and he glanced at the door. "I'll keep Aileen from marrying Cailan," he added quietly.

Loghain stopped. "How will you do that?"

"I'll think of something."

"Oh. That sounds very good. Thank you for clarifying."

Rendon scowled. "I promise I'll find a way to keep them apart."

"And that's it?"

"That's it."

"No other schemes?" Loghain asked with suspicion. "No murder, no treason?"

"None whatsoever."

Once again, Loghain couldn't tell if Rendon were lying or not. Though he was still wary of Rendon's promise, he held out his hand.

"And you swear this?"

Rendon shook Loghain's hand firmly. "I swear it."

Firm handshakes were a sign of truthfulness.

"Very well," Loghain said with a sigh. "It's done. I must take my leave before Cailan wonders why I've been gone so long. Good day."

"Pleasure doing business with you, Mac Tir," said Rendon.

Loghain studied Rendon's face for a minute more before he left.

* * *

Author's Note: A shorter chapter, with some character building for Loghain and Howe. I'm going a little AU with what happens between Loghain and Howe because I've never really understood _why _Loghain turned to Howe for support. So, I'm making up a better explanation… Better in my eyes, anyway. The way I see it, I don't think Loghain ever wanted anything bad to happen to the Couslands, and I believe Howe went behind Loghain's back in his mad quest for power. I do believe, however, that their alliance was not a spontaneous idea which suddenly sprang up when Loghain decided to abandon Ostagar; hence, this conversation was born. If you don't like it, that's cool.  
Your feedback is most welcome!


	4. Ch 2 - The Grand Tourney

Author's Note: I'm going to try to tie up some loose ends, with Riordan in Ferelden a few months ago and things. What Loghain means by, "Orlesian Wardens," might begin to make more sense, but probably not until a later chapter.  
I feel like I'm going to have tomatoes thrown at me for this one; but, please, remember that a lot of this is head-canon and I am still working out everything. I promise things will add up later on.  
(Also, this chapter does not take place immediately following the previous one; instead, it happens a few months later. I'm trying to avoid any confusion from the get-go from here on out…)

* * *

**Chapter 2 – The Grand Tourney**

_Aileen F. Cousland_

Aileen woke early. She was terribly anxious, and she had been experiencing nightmares again. Ever since Bryce had told her the Howes would be coming to march south for the Blight, she had had countless nights worrying and half-sleeping over their impending arrival. The dreams were always the same: she either remembered happy times she had spent with _him_, or she was running through the halls trying to find Mallol – both of which made her cry when she awoke.

Despite that, the Howes' visit was not the only thing for which Aileen was nervous. She had another day before they would be here. But today, a Grey Warden – _What is his name again?_ _Riordan? _– would be here again, and Aileen was determined to impress him… without her parents' permission, of course.

From what news had reached Highever, Aileen knew that battles with the darkspawn had already taken place in Ostagar. She wanted to be down there, with her brother and father, fighting the darkspawn with Cailan and the rest of the men. A Blight sounded _exciting_. Nothing _exciting _ever happened in Highever, except the occasional pirate ship that tried to dock, or terrible blizzards which occurred every year at this time. She wanted to prove to her family – and to herself – that she was not _weak_ – that she could beat every man who dared challenge her. And she would, today, in the tournament her father was holding.

When the Grey Warden arrived, Bryce, Fergus, and Aileen were at the city gates to greet him… them. There were two: a tall, dark-skinned Human (probably Rivaini – and definitely _not _Riordan), and a female Elf who was only barely shorter than Aileen. The man was dressed in leather armour and had an arsenal of daggers sheathed in various places; the woman wore green-and-gold robes and she pensively held a staff in her right hand. _Unless she likes to dress up like that, she's a mage,_ thought Aileen.

"Duncan!" said Bryce. "It is good to see you again." The two clasped hands briefly.

_Duncan… I remember his name mentioned…_

"And you, Teyrn Cousland," Duncan said. Aileen's ears twitched, and not from the icy wind. She had not expected such a soft, smooth voice to come from such a large man. Duncan shook Fergus's hand.

Aileen suddenly remembered who Duncan was. "You are Ferelden's Warden-Commander?" she asked, holding out her hand.

"That is correct." Duncan kissed her hand instead of shaking it. His beard tickled.

"Is Riordan here, too?"

Duncan shook his head. "He and a few other seniour Wardens left Ferelden several days ago to gather more of us. We… underestimated how quickly this would escalate."

"So… how many of you _are _here?"

Bryce chuckled. "My daughter is ever full of questions."

Duncan smiled. "I don't mind. Currently, only a score or so. That isn't many, considering there are over a thousand in the Anderfels."

_Wow_, thought Aileen, _that __**is **__a lot._

"At any rate," Duncan said, "I was told I might find some promising recruits here."

"Who told you that?" Fergus asked lightly.

"Arl Howe."

The sudden stillness in the air was tangible. Aileen looked to her brother and father, who were both looking at her. It was Duncan who broke the awkward silence:

"I was in Amaranthine for a few days," he explained, "looking for recruits there. When I found none, Arl Howe suggested I come here to search."

"He is not wrong, there," said Bryce. "We do have some fine knights I'm sure you'll find suitable."

"Good. Arl Howe informed me that you are holding a tourney today; is that true?"

"Yes, ser," Aileen replied. "We hold one every year at this time."

Aileen looked behind Duncan and saw that the Elf had stood there quietly. She looked almost sad. Duncan confusedly followed Aileen eyes and seemed to remember that the mage had not been introduced.

"Sorry," Aileen said to Duncan. "May I ask who this is?" she asked kindly.

"My name is Neria," the Elf said. She crossed her arms in front of her and bowed slightly. "And you are?"

Aileen studied Neria briefly. Neria's tone wasn't rude, but Aileen saw the wariness on her face. This was probably her first time out of the Tower; and Elves were not treated equally outside the Circle. Neria's eyes held Aileen's, and Aileen noticed how very different she looked from herself. The Elf had narrow eyes with purple – literally, _lavender_ – irises, tan skin, and light blond hair which was pulled into a tight bun. There was a swirling tattoo under her right eye which matched her eye colour. Her pointy ears had multiple piercings, as well. Neria's face was slim and she had high cheekbones, which was characteristic of Elves. _She is very pretty_, thought Aileen. She was mildly jealous of Neria's eyes.

"I am Aileen. Pleased to meet you," she said, bowing to Neria the way she had.

The suspicion left Neria's face and she smiled.

"Neria is one of my recruits," Duncan said. "I didn't want to take her to Ostagar and come all the way up here again, so she has been traveling with me."

"You are welcome to whatever you need," Bryce said. "Both of you."

"Thank you, your… grace," Neria said. She smiled awkwardly, not knowing whether she had chosen the correct title or not.

"When will this tournament take place?" Duncan asked.

"In a couple hours," Fergus replied. "When we get into the heart of Highever, you'll see, the whole city is preparing for it."

"This is a big deal, I take it?"

"Yes," Bryce replied to Duncan. "The champion wins one hundred sovereigns and has the chance to defend his title each year until he loses. Ser Riordan was the champion for two years, before he was recruited into the Wardens."

Duncan nodded slowly. "I remember him telling me that, once. Riordan and I took—" he stopped abruptly. "I mean, we were recruited together. At the same time." He awkwardly half-smiled.

"Well, I think you'll enjoy yourself today," Aileen said casually.

_I know I will._

)-(

When the tourney was about to begin, Aileen retrieved the greatsword she had stashed in the stables earlier that morning. She was armoured in thick chainmail and a large helmet; her hair was pulled up and bound inside the helm, so no one would recognise her. It was not that women were not allowed to enter: on the contrary, they were encouraged. But as a Cousland, Aileen was not supposed to enter. Aileen briefly considered that her height (or, rather, lack thereof) by itself might give her away, but she chose to hope for the best.

She had told Bryce that she was feeling under the weather and that she would be resting in the castle. But she had told Eleanor, who was staying in the castle with a pregnant Oriana, that she would be watching the contest with her father and brother. Her plan was foolproof.

Now all she had to do was win.

The tournament was fought in this way: everyone who entered began on the same tier – the bottom. The contestants were paired off and fought each other until one party was forced to yield. The winners would fight one another until there was only one left, and that person would fight the winner of the last three years' tourneys, Ser Renley. This year, there were thirty-two competitors, plus last year's champion. _That means I'll have to beat six people to win,_ Aileen thought. _And they're not trainers. They'll not go easy on me because they're afraid of hurting me._

When Aileen was asked for her name, she said, "Victoria," which she thought was rather amusing. She noticed there were nine other women in the competition, which was heartening. Aileen gripped her greatsword in her right hand felt every muscle in her arm react. It was a good sensation: one she knew well. Aileen knew her body would know what to do when the time came. She stood in a long line next to her opponent as they awaited their turn to duel. Though it was bitterly cold, Aileen knew that, once she began fighting, her body would warm right up. Aileen watched as victor after victor stepped back into line. There was only one woman who had won so far, and she had fought another woman. _Well, __**that **__is __reassuring_, thought Aileen.

When the man in charge called, "Victoria and Harold, step into the arena!" Aileen had almost forgotten that she had chosen 'Victoria' to be her alias. Had Harold not stepped forward, she would have just stood there. Aileen marveled at the sight before her. It was not that the arena, which was more like an amphitheatre, was large and beautiful; but she had never been _inside _it before. It was modest, with stone walls surrounding the battleground, which was simply a dirt floor. She saw and smelled blood, and it made her stomach turn over. Aileen looked over and saw that her father, brother, and the two Grey Wardens were sitting together, watching.

"Victoria!"

Aileen blinked rapidly. "I'm ready!" she yelled, and absently realised that she had not responded to the first call. She squinted through the slit in her helm and saw Harold loosely holding a dagger in each hand. He looked anxious and overly eager, and Aileen already knew how to beat him. When the tourney master yelled for them to begin, Aileen planted her left foot in front of her and stood her ground, watching Harold as he rapidly approached. She waited until he was close; and as Harold began slowing down so he would not run into his opponent, Aileen used one arm to swing her sword around in a large arc. Harold dodged out of the way, and in that brief instant when his balance was not sound, Aileen used her free hand and grabbed one of his hands. Harold tried to stab Aileen with his uncaptured hand, but she dropped her sword and knocked the dagger right out of his hand. The spectators gasped. Aileen kneed Harold in the stomach and took the other dagger from him. She wrenched his arm and forced him to his knees. Aileen held the dagger close to Harold's throat and smiled inside her helmet. There were some cheers from the crowd members. Harold looked confused. _If you weren't holding your daggers so loosely, that might not have happened_, Aileen thought.

"I yield," Harold said calmly.

Aileen released his arm and handed the dagger back to him. She bowed to him and retrieved her greatsword from where she had dropped it.

"Victoria is victorious!"

And as the crowd clapped and cheered, Aileen smiled.

_Fergus A. Cousland_

"That was surprising," Bryce said enthusiastically.

"Indeed," Duncan mused. "Not a drop of blood shed in that one."

"A clean fight," Fergus concurred.

"I might return to Ostagar with _two _women," Duncan said with a laugh. "Rarely do the Grey Wardens find suitable female recruits."

"The day is still young," said Bryce. "Let us see who else catches your eye."

And that is precisely what they did. They watched duel after duel, and Duncan made small comments about the fighters throughout the event. 'Too aggressive,' he would say of one; or, 'He might be worthy of the Order,' he would say of another. There were two in particular in whom Duncan took interest. Ser Jory, one of the knights, and Victoria, the mysterious warrior. Fergus thought it was strange that no one had heard of her before now. Fergus watched Victoria fight. She fought excellently, as though she had had training for years. Her strokes and moves were clean and precise. _I could __**swear**__ I've seen her before_, Fergus thought. _She seems too familiar. Is it the way she walks?… I can't put my finger on it._

When there were only four competitors left, both Victoria and Ser Jory were still in the tourney. They were not paired against each other in this round. Just before Victoria's bout, her opponent shouted,

"I'm taking you down, little girl!"

Victoria laughed. "I should like to see you try!" she taunted right back at him.

Fergus froze. _She sounds like me, but her voice is only slightly higher. _"Aileen?" he whispered.

"What's that, Fergus?"

Fergus coughed. "Nothing, Father. I, ah…" Fergus looked around, praying his father hadn't also recognised the voice. "Would you excuse me for a moment?"

Bryce nodded, and Fergus left his seat. He headed straight for the back of the arena. _Please, don't be Aileen_, he thought. _Maker, __**please**__… _When he arrived at his destination, Fergus waited. He heard the tourney master announce that Victoria had won again.

"Victoria," Fergus said after she had come back. She hesitated; and when she turned to him, she froze. "Come here."

Victoria very slowly approached Fergus.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Fergus hissed.

"_Shh!_" Victoria looked around. She grabbed Fergus's hand and led him to a more private location. "What does it _look_ like I'm doing?" Victoria snapped. "I'm trying to win."

"Stop playing innocent. Let me see your face."

Seeing no point in attempting to fool her brother, 'Victoria' took off the helmet and revealed her true identity.

Fergus rubbed his forehead. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you'll be in? We're not allowed to compete! Mother will be furious, Father will be disgraced, and all those people you defeated today were beaten unfairly!"

Aileen rolled her eyes. "If I beat them, I just proved they weren't good enough to win, anyway."

"That is beside the point! Maker's breath, Aileen!" Fergus sighed. "I can't let you keep fighting."

Aileen furrowed her eyebrows. "Yes, you can."

"No. I mean I _won't_. And why do you want to win so badly?"

"I want to be a Grey Warden."

Fergus paled. _No, Aileen_, he thought. _Don't throw your precious life away._

"Even if you win, I don't think your father would allow me to recruit you," said a soft voice from the shadows. Fergus recognised the voice as Duncan's. He had not realised that Duncan had followed him.

Aileen's expression saddened. "Do you not possess the Right of Conscription?"

"I do," Duncan said, "but I have no interest in angering your father. I cannot jeopardise what little authority I have here in Ferelden. King Cailan seems to be the only person who supports the Grey Wardens' presence."

Aileen sighed. "What should I do?"

"You should bow out of the tournament," Fergus replied. "Whether you reveal yourself or not is up to you, but you shouldn't take away someone else's chance to win."

Aileen nodded slowly. "It's nice to know I did all this for nothing. I wanted to prove that I'm just as talented a fighter as everyone else."

"You _have _proven that," Fergus said. "Whether people know that or not is up to you."

"I suggest you make your decision quickly," said Duncan. "It sounds like you're up soon."

Aileen looked at both men and sighed. Duncan left, and Fergus hugged his sister quickly.

"Make me proud," he said.

_Aileen F. Cousland_

Aileen had half a mind to ignore her brother's pleas and continue to fight until she won. The other half very kindly let her know that she was a fool for thinking she would get away with this. She knew she had to listen to Fergus and Duncan or she would be in more trouble than she could imagine. Not only that, but Bryce would be disappointed in her. Aileen could handle Eleanor's disappointment – since it seemed to be a constant thing nowadays – but _Bryce's_ disapproval would have killed her.

She _could _bow out of the tourney without revealing herself. She could just keep her helmet on and no one would be the wiser of who she really was. Or she could walk away without ever entering the arena again. They were coward's moves, but moves nonetheless.

_No_, Aileen told herself. _It is worse to be a coward than to do nothing._ Aileen put her helmet on and approached the gates, where Ser Jory already stood. He was tall and muscular, but his face was sort of fat. He, like Aileen, wielded a greatsword.

"Victoria and Ser Jory, step into the arena!"

"Good luck," said Ser Jory.

They walked to opposite ends of the floor and waited.

"This duel will decide who will face Ser Renley, three-time champion of this tourney!" the tourney master called to them. "Victoria, are you ready?"

"I am!" said Aileen. She saw Fergus lean forward in his seat.

"Ser Jory, are you ready?"

"Aye, I am!"

Aileen looked at Ser Jory. _I'm so sorry to have to do this to you_, she thought.

"Fight!"

When Ser Jory began sprinting toward her, Aileen took her weapon and fell to her knees, holding the sword in both hands in front of her. Ser Jory stopped running and cautiously drew near.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked.

Aileen took a deep breath. "I yield."

"That's not how this works! Get up!"

Aileen put her sword on the ground and stood. She took off her helmet and Ser Jory gasped.

"My lady Cousland!"

There were several gasps and the spectators whispered to one another.

"What I did was wrong!" Aileen shouted. The crowd hushed again. She saw Bryce's face, and it made her heart ache. "I wasn't fighting for money or a title. I wanted to prove that I am as excellent at fighting as everyone else, but I picked a pretty terrible way to do it." Aileen swallowed and pointed at Ser Jory. "I don't want to take away his chance at becoming this year's champion. And so… I respectfully yield."

Ser Jory shook his head. "Cousland or not, you proved yourself worthy of this," he said, gesturing to the arena.

Aileen picked up her greatsword and sheathed it on her back. "May fortune find thee," said she. She bowed and left the arena without looking back.

)-(

Aileen had been lying on her bed for hours, her armour discarded carelessly on the floor. Both her parents had tried to talk to her; but since the door was locked and Aileen refused to respond, they had stopped pleading. Richter whined at his mistress and could tell she was upset.

She was more than upset, however. Aileen felt stupid and ashamed and angry all at once. It was only when Fergus begged for her to open the door that she did.

"Everyone is talking about me, aren't they?" Aileen blurted out before Fergus had a chance to speak. "I would bet I'm the talk of the town. And Father is furious with me, isn't he?" Aileen sighed. "I can't—"

"You're not even letting me talk," Fergus interrupted. He chuckled. "Everyone _is _talking about you, but it's not bad. In fact, people are commending you for your bravery. Father is disappointed in you"—Aileen looked down—"but he isn't angry. And, most importantly, I'm proud of you."

Aileen looked up at her big brother and smiled a little. "Thanks," was all she could manage.

"By the way, Ser Jory won," said Fergus.

"Good for him."

"And Duncan recruited him."

Aileen's mouth twitched. "Even better."

Fergus looked sadly at his sister. "You shouldn't be so eager to run off to battle."

"Neither should you!"

"You think I _want _to leave?" Fergus looked appalled. "Do you think I want to leave Oriana and Oren and the baby here by themselves?" Fergus shuddered. "The thought _terrifies _me, and don't tell Oriana that!"

Aileen's eyebrows pulled together. She hadn't realised Fergus was scared. She didn't know he _could _be scared of _anything_. "I'm sorry."

Fergus sighed. "No, it's fine." He extended an arm and hugged Aileen when she drew near. "But seriously, don't tell Oriana."

Aileen smiled. "All right. I won't."

"And Father wants to see you."

She sighed. "Fantastic."

* * *

Author's Note: A-and let the tomato-throwing begin. *hides behind a pillow* I had to do _something_ about Ser Jory, since he says he was a knight in Highever, and that he had won a tournament in Highever which impressed Duncan. And Aileen, of course, wants to prove she can fight as well as everyone else. She does some pretty stupid things, but she learns from them, which is good. Also, hopefully this cleared up some stuff about Riordan. Sorry if that was confusing!  
Reviews would be awesome! :)


	5. Ch 3 - Family Matters

Author's Note: This is a bit of a chatty chapter, but it is important for more character development. And, as the title suggests… family matters. Chapter 3 is _technically_ from Aileen's POV, but the way I wrote it makes it feel like it is told from everyone's eyes (or from some random spectator's eyes), so I didn't specify a narrator.  
Also, I do not have a permanent beta (though **CouslandSpitFire** did look at this chapter for me – thanks!). I read what I have written four or five times before publishing, and then I read twice over again after I have uploaded it to FanFiction . Net, but sometimes I miss things, anyway. Please point out mistakes and I'll correct them accordingly. If someone is willing to beta this monster story, PM me please! :)

* * *

**Chapter 3 – Family Matters**

Aileen gazed at the wide oak door she faced. "He's inside?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," Fergus confirmed. He squeezed his little sister's shoulder. "Good luck," he said, and left.

She inhaled and knocked on the door. She heard the creak of Bryce's chair – a muffled sound through the door – and waited with baited breath until the door opened. Bryce gazed down at her, and the look he wore on his face made Aileen want to cry. Maker, she couldn't _stand _it when Bryce was disappointed in her. Aileen felt her heart pounding, and she realised that she had been holding her breath since she had knocked. She let it out slowly and took another breath, her lungs eager for more oxygen. Bryce nodded slowly and stepped to the side, gesturing for Aileen to enter his office. He closed the door behind her. Aileen headed to the chair in front of her father's desk but Bryce gently grabbed her arm. Aileen stopped but didn't face him.

"Aileen."

She immediately felt her heart wrench. There were layers of meaning to how he had spoken her name. '_Father is disappointed in you, but he isn't angry_,' Fergus had said… at least she would not have to worry about her father being angry.

"Pup, would you look at me, please?"

_A-and the nickname surfaces_, she thought. Aileen turned slowly, already steeling herself against whatever expression Bryce now had. He looked sad and distraught.

"Are you going to talk to me?" Bryce asked slowly. Aileen nodded. Bryce let go of her arm. He opened his mouth a little and licked his lips, as if he were selecting his words very carefully. "Do you… know… that what you did was wrong?"

Aileen nodded slowly.

"Could you speak your reply, please?" Each word had been spoken forcibly.

Aileen's delicate eyebrows drew together. "Yes," she said at length. "I know what I did was wrong."

Bryce crossed his arms and took a deep breath. "And should I expect similar behaviour from you in the future?"

Aileen bit the inside of her cheek. "No, Father."

Bryce knew what that cheek-biting meant. It was a Cousland's telltale sign of fibbing. "_Aileen_."

Aileen sighed and said nothing.

"Do you have any idea what you put me through today?!" Bryce suddenly exclaimed. Aileen jumped, and Bryce rubbed his face with his hands. "I'm sorry… that was uncalled for." Bryce took a short breath and cleared his throat. "What I mean is… when I… when I saw you… when you revealed yourself, I was so _frightened_ for you."

Aileen scoffed. "I barely suffered a scratch—"

"Whether you were injured or not has no bearing on my fear, Aileen. I feared for you because of what might happen to you – what people might demand of me." Bryce paused. "And then the strangest thing happened: the people… commended you for your actions." He shook his head and chuckled a little. "Someone told me that, Cousland or not, you deserved the title. But – and this is a very large _but_ – that doesn't mean you should have competed. So, I will ask again: should I expect similar behaviour in the future?"

Aileen shook her head. "No."

"All right," Bryce huffed. "Then answer this, please." Bryce spoke slowly again: "What… _possessed_ you to compete today?"

Aileen let her eyes wander to the door. "If I speak honestly, will you tell anyone?"

Bryce sidestepped twice and locked the door. "That will be my decision."

Aileen nodded slowly and sighed. She bit on the inside flesh behind her lip. "I competed to impress Duncan."

"Duncan?" Bryce raised an eyebrow. "Why—oh… _o-oh_." That was a shock. He had expected… His face paled and he swallowed uneasily. "I see."

"Fergus had the same reaction," muttered Aileen.

"You… wish to be a Grey Warden?"

"Yes," Aileen replied.

Bryce closed his eyes, bowed his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "And you're _sure_ that's the only reason?"

Aileen tried to look confused. "What other reason would there be?"

Bryce hesitated. His daughter was terribly touchy about this. "_I_ think _you_ wanted to prove your ability to yourself."

Aileen's brows and lips twitched for a fraction of a second. "Why would I do that?"

"I think we both know why."

Silence.

"Competing was foolish, anyway," Aileen said loudly, changing the direction in which the conversation was headed. "Duncan said, even _if _I had won, he would not have recruited me because you would never allow it."

Bryce blinked rapidly. His daughter had eluded the subject for years; and, clearly, today would be no different. He decided to let this course continue. "He was correct."

"But what if he had used the Right of Conscription?"

"Maker's breath, Aileen!" Bryce exclaimed. "Do you truly want out of here that badly?"

Aileen opened her mouth to speak, but she stopped. She shrugged.

"Speak your mind."

"Highever is _boring_, Father," said Aileen. "Nothing ever happens here. I want excitement and action. I want to join you and Fergus when you ride south."

"And that doesn't have anything to do with King Cailan, does it?"

Aileen guffawed. "No, of course not."

Bryce rolled his eyes. "I am not oblivious, Aileen. I _know_ there is something between you two; and if you think Loghain has not noticed, you are sorely wrong."

"_Cailan_ is not the reason," she stated firmly.

"Then is it Eleanor?" Aileen blinked her eyes slowly, and Bryce knew he had hit home… even if it weren't the primary reason Aileen had competed. "Your mother means well." Bryce spoke quietly even though there was no chance of being overheard. "She is doing what she thinks is best for you."

"No," Aileen disagreed firmly. "She is doing what is best for this _family_. But I do not understand—Fergus is the heir of Highever. He is married and has a son, so there is nothing _here _for me. I do not want to marry right now, so why can I not go… adventuring for a time?" Aileen gestured to the air.

Bryce scratched his chin. He spoke slowly: "You… have not considered a very important possibility."

"And what might that be?"

He hesitated. "Fergus and I might not return from the fighting."

Aileen felt shivers travel through her body. "Don't speak like that."

"But it _is _a possibility, Aileen. Think of it – if neither Fergus nor I made it back from the Blight, to whom would Highever fall?"

"Mother."

Bryce gave her a look.

"_Me?_"

"Your mother has already deferred all authority to her children, should such tragedy occur."

"At least until Oren grew old enough to take over," Aileen corrected.

"That is beside the point, Aileen! Can you at least see why I want you safe?"

Aileen folded her arms over her chest and stuck out her chin. "It still isn't fair."

"You are being incredibly stubborn and selfish, Aileen." Bryce watched Aileen as she narrowed her eyes and refused to budge from her stance. "And you are every bit your mother when you act this way."

Aileen's brows drew closer together. "Excuse me?"

"When I look at you, I see the woman I married thirty years ago. You are much more like Eleanor than you think, Aileen. But"—Bryce took a deep breath—"you would know this if you gave her the time of day."

Aileen's defensive stance visibly weakened.

"She loves you more than you know, Aileen. And you have no idea how much it hurts her when you shut her out. Some nights I can't stop her tears."

Aileen's eyebrows pulled together again, but more out of self-disappointment than anger or stubbornness. "She cries?"

Bryce nodded. "What you said earlier – about Eleanor doing what is best for the family – you _do _realize how selfish you sound? Shouldn't family come before personal interest?"

Aileen nodded her head slowly. "Yes, it should." She sighed. "I am sorry."

"Promise me you will do better?"

"Aye, I promise," Aileen replied. "Where is she now?"

"Landra and Dairren arrived not long ago and Eleanor is probably in the courtyard with them."

Aileen looked at her father with puzzlement. "… I didn't know Lady Landra was supposed to be here."

Bryce raised an eyebrow at his daughter.

"Right. Pay attention to Mother. Got it."

"Good. Before you find her, please show Duncan and Neria to their rooms. They'll have the guest rooms in the hall where our rooms are."

"Where are they?"

"Main hall."

"All right." Aileen hugged her father. "I love you."

"I love you, too," said Bryce. He kissed the crown of her head and rubbed her back with his hands, giving her a quick squeeze before she withdrew.

Aileen smiled and stood on her toes to kiss her father's cheek and left. She proceeded to the main hall, where Duncan and Neria were sitting by the fire. When Aileen entered, Neria stared at her, and Aileen was again startled by the lavender colour of Neria's eyes. Aileen felt as though Neria were judging her by the way she kept staring.

"Hello," said Aileen.

"Good afternoon," Duncan replied. Neria didn't speak.

"I heard you recruited Ser Jory," Aileen said to Duncan. "Where is he?"

"He will be here shortly. He has a wife and wanted to make sure he properly said good-bye to her."

Aileen nodded. "I see. Well, Father asked me to show you where you will stay, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," said Duncan. He stood and Neria followed suit. Both Duncan and Neria picked up their small packs and followed Aileen as she led them to their guest rooms.

"There are two beds in each room," Aileen said, "and Ser Jory will stay with Duncan when he arrives. Neria, you have a whole room to yourself." She pointed to the right.

Neria nodded and disappeared into her room. Aileen narrowed her eyes.

"Thank you, Miss Cousland," Duncan said, bowing his head politely. He, too, entered his room and closed the door behind him.

Aileen stared at Neria's door. _ What is the matter with her?_ she wondered. _Is she angry with me?_ She chose not to let the mage's attitude sour the rest of her day. Instead, she headed to the courtyard… or, rather, the seating area around the courtyard, where fires were kept. Before she arrived, Aileen heard some childlike laughter and recognized Oren's among the various voices.

"Hello," Aileen greeted when she saw everyone. Landra, Dairren, Eleanor and Oriana were sitting near a fire. Fergus stood near Oriana, who was sitting in a rocking chair with her hands folded over her pregnant belly. She glanced at Aileen, smiled, and looked back into the courtyard, where Oren was playing in the snow with some of his friends. Eleanor looked at her daughter warily and raised an eyebrow. Aileen was still wearing the sweaty tunic and breeches she had worn under her armour, and she was sure her mother was not pleased. Eleanor glanced between Aileen and Dairren suggestively. Both Landra and Dairren stood.

"Good afternoon," they said almost simultaneously. Dairren took Aileen's hand and gently kissed it.

"How are you, my lady?" he asked politely. His dark brown eyes contrasted the redness of his hair, Aileen noticed.

_Mother probably put him up to this_, thought Aileen. "Well, thank you."

"Darling," said Eleanor, "you remember Dairren and Lady Landra, Bann Loren's wife?"

This question had only one reply, even if the opposite were true:

"Of course, Mother. How are you, Lady Landra? You are looking well."

"Ha!" Landra huffed and smiled. "You are too kind, Aileen. The years have not been as good to me as they have your mother."

"I'm sure I would look older if I had more grandchildren," Eleanor said quite pointedly.

Aileen rolled her eyes. "Give Oriana a few more months and you'll have another." Then her breath caught. _You just broke your promise_, she thought with guilt. "I'm sorry—"

"Auntie!" a six-year-old Oren yelled. He had run in from the outer courtyard and he hugged Aileen around her waist.

"You're getting her all wet!" Oriana scolded.

"That's all right," said Aileen, hugging her nephew back. She shivered.

"No, it's not all right." Oriana stood up with some difficulty. "You're soaking wet. Let's get you some clothes."

Aileen's eyebrows pulled together. "Really, Oriana, I am fine."

Oriana took Aileen's hand. "No, we're getting you some dry clothes." She began pulling Aileen away from the group. Aileen looked desperately at Fergus, and by his expression, he had no idea what Oriana was doing.

'_Mood swings?'_ Fergus mouthed without a sound.

Aileen shrugged and allowed Oriana to lead her all the way to her room. Richter looked at the pair quizzically. Oriana shut the door.

"You know," Aileen began, "there are _more_ conspicuous ways of letting me know you would like to talk."

Oriana laughed. "Such as?"

"Oh, I don't know." Aileen tapped her lip. "How about, 'Aileen, can we talk, perhaps privately?'"

"Feeling sarcastic today?"

"No, not at all." Aileen began grabbing some dry clothing from her armoire.

"Well," said Oriana, "I do want to talk to you." She paused. "Has Fergus spoken with you?"

"Yes, not an hour ago." Aileen tugged off her wet tunic and tossed it into a basket. "Why?"

"He's worrying me."

Aileen looked at her sister-in-law. She was completely serious. "What do you mean?"

"I _mean _that I'm worried about him. He keeps telling me that he'll be fine, but I know his tells. He's scared isn't he?"

'_The thought __**terrifies**__ me, and don't tell Oriana that!'_

Aileen shrugged and looked away. "No, Fergus is fine. He's brave."

"You have the same tells as him," said Oriana. "You can't look at me and tell me that."

Aileen looked straight into Oriana's eyes. "Fergus will be fine."

Oriana smirked. "Your mouth twitched."

"You Antivans always read too much into things!" Aileen said, throwing her arms in the air.

"Do we?" Oriana chuckled. She crossed her arms.

Aileen sighed. She knew she had been beaten. "If it makes you happy: Yes, Fergus is afraid. He's afraid for you and Oren and the baby." Aileen paused and quietly said, "He's afraid that he might not return."

Oriana sighed and sat on Aileen's bed. "I'm scared of that, too."

Aileen forced a smile. "He will be all right. Fergus will be back before you know it." Aileen finished dressing and sat next to Oriana, who was caressing her belly thoughtfully. "And I'll be here to keep you company. You're the best sister I could have asked for."

Oriana smiled. "You, too."

"Let's go back, shall we?" Aileen helped Oriana stand and they made their way back to the courtyard, where everyone was still sitting. Fergus tapped Oren on the shoulder, and the boy trudged to Aileen with his head hung, looking very guilty.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. Oren sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

Aileen glared at Fergus. "Hey," she kindly said as she knelt in front of Oren. "Look at me."

Oren slowly raised his head. He sniffled again.

"I forgive you," said Aileen. She wanted to tell him that it was no big deal, that there was nothing for which to apologize; but she didn't want to override whatever Fergus had told his son. "Give me a hug?"

Oren hugged her. He was still a little wet, but Aileen did not care. Aileen drew back and kissed Oren on the forehead and ruffled his hair, and he rubbed his head frantically, trying to put his hair back in place. Fergus coughed to conceal a laugh, since his son hated it when people laughed at him.

Dairren waited until the exchange was finished to speak. "My lady," he said, "would you care to join me for a stroll?"

Aileen glanced very quickly at Eleanor. _Mother still does not know about Cailan_. Dairren held out his arm and Aileen tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. "I would be delighted," she said, and they began walking through the halls of the castle. "_So_," Aileen said with a sigh, "why are you not riding south with your father?"

"My father is in Orlais, actually. On business."

"Oh."

Dairren chuckled. "But I am riding south with your father, as his squire."

Aileen's eyebrows pulled together. "He did not tell me that."

"I am excited," Dairren said. "Slightly scared, but excited."

"You're scared?" Aileen asked, surprised.

"I believe a little fear is healthy, if not good for self-preservation."

Aileen laughed lightly. She looked up at Dairren and he smiled at her. "My family would agree with you."

"And you do not?"

The Cousland girl shrugged. "Fergus and Father insist that war is not exciting. Father refuses to let me join the Grey Wardens."

"The—there is a Grey Warden here?!" Dairren asked enthusiastically.

Aileen nodded. "He recruited Ser Jory, the knight who won the tourney today."

"Didn't you join that as well?"

Aileen's cheeks flushed a light pink. "Yes."

"I think that was extremely brave of you."

"I… thank you," Aileen said quietly.

They walked in silence for some time.

"If I might be so bold," Dairren said, "would you like to accompany me to the library this evening?"

Aileen sighed. She stopped walking and turned to Dairren, taking his hand in hers. "I—"

"You're not interested, are you?"

Aileen's lips pressed into a line.

Dairren looked down. "It's all right, really." He laughed lightly. "To be honest, I don't know whether I like you or not. I just thought getting to know you might be nice."

"I appreciate the thought," said Aileen. She smiled. "I… would not mind getting to know you, either," she admitted. And it was the truth. "I am always in need of a friend."

Dairren chuckled. "That is true."

"Now we can walk without it being awkward, yes?" Aileen touched his elbow lightly.

He chuckled again. Dairren held out his arm and Aileen re-tucked her hand in his elbow. "Of course," he said.

* * *

Author's Note: So… that's that. I rewrote this chapter a few times until I was satisfied with it. In case you were wondering, Aileen is not really supposed to be likeable at this point; so if you have mixed feelings about her character, that is what I intended.  
A massive, "Thank you!" goes to **alyssacousland**, **AnaOakenshield**, **CouslandSpitFire**, **Graymalkyn**, **Melysande**, **Morninglight**, and **TaiKee** for their reviews!


	6. Ch 4 - When Howes Come Calling

**Chapter 4 – When Howes Come Calling**

_Aileen F. Cousland_

"_Do you know," he asked once he had backed me up against a wall, "how much I love you?"_

_This position felt good. His hips had pinned my lower body in place and he was towering over me. Several strands of his dark hair hung in my face. I traced his smooth jawline with my finger and stopped at the indent in his chin. "Show me."_

_He chuckled. "Didn't I already do that?" _

_I smirked and tried to stand on my toes to kiss him, but I was stuck. I made a disappointed sound._

"_How much I love you…" He smirked back at me. "Tonight, I'll ask my father if we can marry. Travel safely, and feel better," he said, and kissed me deeply._

… _I'll ask my father if we can marry…_

… _I'm leaving for the Free Marches immediately…_

… _I've… m-made a t-t-terrible mistak-ke!_

Aileen sat up with a start. She placed her hand over her stomach, and sighed in relief when she found nothing there. Once again, her nearly-sleepless night had been riddled with forbidden memories and nightmares both. Aileen looked out the window and saw that it was still dark outside, and that another two feet or so of snow had fallen, in addition to the six-foot accumulation from the couple weeks before that*; but she knew Arl Howe and his men would be here soon. She shivered, but more from the prospect of a Howe's presence than from the temperature of her room. Aileen threw off the sheets and crawled under her bed, retrieving the small lockbox in which she kept things she did not wish to lose. She opened the faded purple journal and turned to the bookmarked page. The last entry was dated 5 Wintermarch, which was over a month ago. Aileen took the journal and sat at her desk, dipped her quill in ink, and began writing.

_16 Guardian, 9:30 Dragon_

_It is exactly one week until my twenty-third birthday. I believe when you turn the year of the day you were born, it is called your 'golden birthday,' or something like that. If so, it isn't going to feel very 'golden' this year._

_Yesterday, I had to kindly tell Dairren I wasn't interested. We did end up walking through the castle, though. We talked a lot. He loves books. He seems a sweet gentleman… I felt badly for him, but I could not tell him why I rejected his advances. That Cailan and I have a thing_—Aileen scratched out _'a thing'_ and wrote—_an… attraction to each other is not supposed to be public knowledge yet. Father and Fergus know, and I do not know whether Father has told Mother yet or not. _

_Speaking of Cailan, he is currently in Ostagar._—Aileen looked at her previous entry—_The Blight has begun. There is a Grey Warden here. He recruited Ser Jory, who won the tournament yesterday (which I foolishly joined). And Father also said he might evaluate Ser Gilmore today. There isn't much else I can say which I have not already written. Father and Fergus are supposed to march tonight with Arl Howe. If I am being honest with myself… I feel… terrified for them. I am a little_—Aileen struck through '_little'_—_great deal nervous about it. Father said he wants to keep me safe should anything bad happen to them…_

_I promised Father I would try to do better with Mother. We shall see how that goes._

_Also, I had __**the nightmare**__ again. I keep telling myself I am just nervous for the Howes' arrival, but I'm not too sure._

_~Aileen F. Cousland_

Aileen blew on the pages and shut the journal. She leaned back in her chair and her stomach growled. She looked out the window again. Sunrise. _Nan's up_, she thought. Aileen put on a robe and yanked on some boots before leaving. Richter yawned and began stretching.

"No, stay here," Aileen whispered to her mabari.

Richter whined at her.

"I can't take you to the kitchen with me, but I'll try to bring some food."

Richter stood and licked Aileen's hand. She scratched him behind his ears and told him to be good. Then she navigated through the castle to the kitchen.

"Up early, I sees," Nan said before Aileen had the chance to speak.

"Good morning, Nan." Aileen sat at a servants' table.

"Couldn't get sleep, could ya?"

Aileen shrugged. "I suppose."

"Worried fer yer father?"

Aileen bit on the inside of her lip and nodded slowly.

Nan tsked and poured a little oil on the wood in the fireplace. "Worrying's not gon' do any good. It'll jus' make ya sick." Nan scratched two pieces of flint against each other until the sparks caught the kindling on fire. "Now it should warm right up in here." Nan looked at Aileen and smiled. "Hungry?"

Aileen nodded.

"Well I'll make somethin' fer ya real fast but I has t' feed hundreds o' soldiers today, so don't linger!

"Of course, Nan," Aileen said with a smile.

"Ya want an orange while yer waitin'?"

"Yes, please!"

Nan chuckled. "I know they's yer favorite." Nan tossed the orange to Aileen, who stuck her thumb nail through the rind to begin peeling it.

"How did you get this?"

"What, the orange? Imported from Antiva earl'r this week."

Aileen smiled. It was nice to live in a coastal city, even if it were a bit boring. Nan quickly scrambled an egg and cooked bacon for Aileen. She ate the egg but took both strips of bacon back to her room, where Richter happily scarfed them down.

"You would think we starve you, the way you eat," Aileen said with exasperation. Richter licked her hand and Aileen scratched behind his ears, where he liked it best. "Time to get ready," she said to herself. _After all, I cannot disappoint __**Arl Howe**__._

)-(

"He's late," Aileen stated early that afternoon. "He was supposed to be here a few hours ago." She had her arms crossed and her weight shifted to one side as she tapped her boot on the floor anxiously. She wore chainmail as her father and brother did, and she had her long hair braided down to her waist. Aileen knew she wouldn't march tonight with her family, but she wanted to look every bit the warrior she was in front of the Howes. She would not be taken lightly.

"Is it… normal for Arl Howe to be late?" Dairren carefully asked.

"I'm sure there will be a perfectly reasonable explanation," Bryce said.

Fergus crossed his arms, too. "There had better be. We can't keep the king waiting like this."

Bryce shot a look of warning at his children. "I don't want to hear this talk again. I know we have our… _issues_ with the Howes, but we have to set those aside. We're at war." He pointedly looked at Aileen, who simply stuck out her lower jaw in forced obedience. Inwardly, she seethed.

"Teyrn Cousland is right," said Duncan with a nod. The other Grey Wardens were not in the room. "We need every arm we can get, and family feuds must be put to rest."

_I will __**never **__let my hatred rest,_ Aileen thought.

"You're scowling," Fergus whispered into her ear. She waved her hand in the air to shoo him away.

The doors suddenly opened, but it was not Arl Howe who entered. Two of Highever's soldiers marched toward Bryce. They looked concerned.

"M'lord," one of them said, and they both bowed. "I believe there is something wrong."

"What is it?" Bryce asked.

"Arl Howe and his son arrived, but they bring no troops."

Aileen's breath caught. _His… son?_

"_What?!_" Fergus exploded.

"It's true, ser," said the other man. "When our captain saw them approaching Highever, he sent us to tell you ahead of time."

… _Surely they are mistaken…_

Bryce pushed the inside of his cheek with his tongue. "They have _no _soldiers with them?"

"There are some bodyguards, but that's it. Maybe seven or eight men."

"Maker's breath!" Bryce exclaimed. He scratched the back of his head and closed his eyes. "Just… escort them here when they arrive."

"Aye, ser," the soldiers said together, and they left.

"_Why _aren't Howe's soldiers here?" Fergus asked.

Bryce inhaled deeply. "Were there any signs of delay when you were there, Duncan?"

The Rivaini man shook his head. "No, my lord."

"Perhaps the weather?" Fergus offered.

"It _did _snow terribly all week," Bryce confirmed, albeit hesitantly.

"_I_ still don't think it's a valid excuse," Aileen muttered with spite.

Duncan appeared to be the only one who had heard her, and he raised one eyebrow. It was not long until the doors reopened and Arl Howe appeared with his son… _Thomas_. Neither of them was wearing armour. Aileen forced a shallow breath. If it were possible, Howe's long, hooked nose had become longer and more hooked than when she had last seen him. He also had more grey in his hair, and his skin was more wrinkled. Nevertheless, he looked extremely fit for an old man. And Thomas had grown quite a bit. He had, unfortunately, inherited his father's nose; and he had black hair like the rest of the Howes.

"Still scowling," Fergus whispered, elbowing her.

Aileen put on a better face to match that of her father's: pleasant, but serious.

"Welcome," Bryce said, and the Couslands bowed to their guests.

The Howes did not return the same courtesy, and Aileen bristled. "Thank you, Bryce," said the Arl. He still spoke through his nose. "I trust you remember my son, Thomas?" Thomas held out his hand for Aileen. She smiled ever so slightly and shook his hand as a man would, refusing to let him kiss it.

"Of course. And you remember my son and daughter?"

_Maker, I hate pleasantries_, thought Aileen.

"Fergus, yes. And _how _could I forget Aileen?" Aileen bristled again. "It doesn't look like you have grown an inch since we last met."

"I have not," Aileen stated flatly. She subtly straightened her spine and moved her shoulders back, suddenly self-conscious of her five-foot-four** stature. _Why am I letting him get under my skin so easily?_ she asked herself.

"If I may interject…" Bryce began, "might I ask where your troops are?"

"They were delayed," Howe said. "The terrible storms this week set back preparations. The commander informed me they would arrive tomorrow morning, or afternoon at the latest."

"Afternoon?!" Fergus exclaimed.

Bryce rubbed his temple with his index and middle fingers. Then he sighed. "There is nothing we can do about it."

"The king needs troops _now_," Fergus said, "and it is two days' travel on horseback to get there."

"I'm aware of that, Fergus," said Bryce. He closed his eyes, and Aileen knew not to interrupt his thoughts. When Bryce finally spoke, each word was forced and spoken slowly: "Fergus… you… will ride tonight as planned. I will stay here and await the arrival of Rendon's troops, and we will ride as soon as we are able."

The corner of Arl Howe's mouth pulled up into a smile. "A fine plan."

Fergus nodded slowly. "As you wish, Father," he said.

Bryce turned to Duncan. "Would you prefer to leave with Fergus tonight, or with Rendon and me tomorrow?"

"I still want to see what your Ser Gilmore has to offer," Duncan replied in a quiet voice. "Leaving tonight would be preferable, but I will not press the issue. Neria and Ser Jory need their rest, and one more night here would do them some good."

"Very well. Aileen," Bryce said, facing his daughter, "inform your mother of the change of plans."

"Aye, Father. I will."

"In the meantime, we will discuss the battle plans for the south. Would you show Thomas where he and his father will stay?"

Aileen nodded and gestured for Thomas to follow her.

"Don't be too long, my son," said Arl Howe. "I want you in the meeting, too."

"Of course," said Thomas.

Aileen contemplated where the Howes would stay… _With the Grey Wardens and Bann Loren's family here, there is only one guest room left which is on the same floor as the rest of the bedrooms_, she thought. _It is in its own hall, but at least it is not on the floor below. That would be an insult._ Aileen smirked and briefly considered taking Thomas to the second floor, but she knew Bryce would _not _be happy.

"Bryce is leaving you here, isn't he?" Thomas asked. He had been walking behind Aileen, but he quickened his pace and now walked beside her.

"Yes," Aileen said curtly.

"I take it you're not happy about that."

"Why do you care?" Aileen snapped.

Thomas held his hands up. "Hey, easy now. I'm just trying to make conversation."

Aileen bit her tongue (literally) to keep from saying something she would regret. Thomas began chuckling to himself.

"What?"

"You're still angry, aren't you?"

Aileen swallowed—_hard._ "That is none of your business," she said quietly.

"Isn't it?"

Aileen stopped in front of a door. "This is where you and your father will stay."

"Where is your room?"

"Around the corner and down the hall." Aileen pointed. "Why?"

Thomas shrugged. "I'm just being curious."

Aileen huffed. "Well, I have other matters to which I must attend." She turned on her heel and proceeded down the hall.

"There's no reason to be rude," Thomas said in a hurt tone. "I'm not going to leave you."

She whirled around, fuming, with her fists clenched. Thomas merely laughed. Aileen approached him quickly and stopped just inches from his body. Her fists were still clenched and it took every fibre of her body to resist the urge to punch him. Thomas smirked and took a step forward and Aileen retreated. Their eyes were locked. He tried to take her hand but she moved away; and then, when he advanced again and tried to stroke her hair with his fingers, Aileen took another step back and slapped him across the face. His cheek instantly turned pink.

"You disgust me," said Aileen. Thomas smirked again, and she quickly left him and went to her room. She shut and locked the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily. _You let him under your skin_, Aileen chided herself. She closed her eyes and continued to take deep breaths to calm down. Richter sat at her feet and whined pitifully.

Aileen smiled a little at her mabari. "Hey, boy," she said softly. She let herself slide down the door 'til she was sitting next to her hound. Richter put his head on her lap and Aileen began stroking his short fur with her fingers. "I suppose I should find Mother," she said with a sigh. "'Promise me you will do better,' Father said," she whispered. "I promised. Now I have to actually do it. And perhaps we can speak about more than the change of plans." _Like about my harsh words yesterday,_ she thought with guilt.

Richter cocked his head at his mistress and gave her a funny look.

"Oh, because _you _never talk to yourself?"

Richter made a sound that would have translated to a snort in the King's Tongue.

"It is not like I am talking to myself. I am talking to you."

Richter rolled his eyes and rested his head on her lap again.

Aileen chuckled lightly and patted her mabari on the head before standing up. He bounced to his feet and wagged his short tail quickly. She shook her head at him.

"I'm sorry, but Mother would have a fit if I brought you out while we had guests. I promise I will take you out tomorrow, all right?"

Richter whined at her but sat down in obedience. Aileen wondered where her mother might be. She decided to try the courtyard first, since that would likely be where Eleanor would entertain the guests. She was correct; though since Dairren was in the meeting, and the Grey Warden recruits were… somewhere – Aileen knew not where – Landra was the only person sitting with Eleanor.

"Hello, Mother, Lady Landra."

"Hello, Darling," said Eleanor. She smiled. Landra waved lightly and Aileen sat down.

"Am I interrupting?" Aileen asked.

Eleanor shook her head. "We were just chatting. What's on your mind?"

"Arl Howe only just arrived. And his men were delayed, so they will not be here until sometime tomorrow."

"Maker's breath!" Eleanor exclaimed.

"What does that mean, then?" Landra asked.

"It means that Father and Dairren will march with Howe tomorrow. Fergus is leaving tonight, as planned."

Landra drew a shallow breath. "At least I get one more night with my son."

"And I with my husband," Eleanor said softly.

Aileen wondered whether she should interrupt further. She wanted to talk to her mother – and not in the way they had spoken for a few years now – but actually have a decent, more-than-nine-words conversation.

"Darling?"

Aileen blinked twice. "Yes, Mother?"

"Is there anything else? You look troubled."

"I—" Aileen stopped abruptly. She quickly glanced at Landra and then back at her mother. "It can wait."

"I need to freshen up, anyway," Landra said. She stood up.

"Really, Lady Landra—"

"Don't be silly, Aileen," Landra interrupted. "I can tell when privacy is needed. My ladies." She bowed her head and left.

Eleanor gazed after Landra and then fixed her eyes on her daughter.

"I did not mean to do that," Aileen said. "I am sorry."

Eleanor smiled half-heartedly. "That's all right." She stood. "I need to speak with you, anyway. To the library?"

Aileen smiled and stood. Eleanor knew her well. "Of course." They began walking side-by-side. "Mother… I want to apologise."

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For my behaviour yesterday… and for the way I have treated you." Aileen swallowed. "I… have not been the kindest person to you, and I want to say I'm sorry."

Eleanor pursed her lips. "Did Bryce put you up to this?"

Aileen felt a stab of pain. _I have been so terrible to her that Mother's first thought is that Father is making me do this._ "No… he did not. Father told me I have been rude, but apologising is entirely my initiative."

"I see."

"I truly am sorry, Mother." Aileen took her Mother's hand and looked directly into her eyes. "Really, I am sorry."

Eleanor sighed. "Then I forgive you," she said.

Aileen felt better for apologising, but Eleanor's response had not been for what she had hoped. _What were you expecting?_ her conscience ridiculed. _Not every hurt can be resolved with an apology. Give her time._

"Has your father told you anything about what will happen here once he has left?" Eleanor asked.

Aileen shook her head. "No."

"I'll leave the specifics of it to him, then."

"The specifics of what?"

Eleanor chuckled. "Darling, you barely gave me time to finish the thought." She looked at Aileen with a bit of amusement. "When Bryce leaves, you will take charge of Highever for the duration of his absence."

Aileen's face contorted in shock. "Are you certain?"

She laughed again. "Of course I am certain. It was my decision."

"Wait a moment." Aileen thought about her conversation with her father from yesterday. _'Your mother has already deferred all authority to her children, should such tragedy occur.'_ "I thought I would only be in charge if… they… didn't return."

Eleanor nodded solemnly. "That is true, too. But I also thought it would be good for you to learn how to run things around here without supervision." She looked at Aileen and waited.

"Without supervision? So you will not be here?" They had arrived at the library, and Aileen opened the door.

Eleanor went inside first. "I'll be here for a few days, but I will accompany Landra to her home afterward."

"So—"Aileen stopped abruptly. She saw Neria scanning the bookshelves. The Elf glanced at the two women.

"I… I'm sorry," said Neria. She glanced nervously between the Cousland women. "Am I…" she seemed at a loss for words.

"Interrupting?" Eleanor finished. "Not at all."

"I was going to say, 'intruding,' actually." Neria swallowed.

Aileen pulled her eyebrows together. "Why would you think that? We're the ones coming in here."

"I…" Neria seemed unable to express her thought. She scratched behind her ear and pressed her thin lips together. "I like the library you have here," she said, changing the subject. "There are more books at the Circle, but these ones look… different."

Aileen came and stood next to Neria. "Look different… how?" She watched the Elf's lavender eyes.

"Well, not _look_ different as _are_ different, I suppose." Neria bit on her lip and let her narrow, slanted eyes travel up and down the bookcases. "There are… novels and short stories. And history. We don't have those in the Circle. Well, I lied. We do have a few history books." Neria bit on her lip again and kept looking at the shelves.

Aileen continued trying to look into her eyes, but Neria would not make eye contact. "What sorts of books do you have?" Aileen asked.

"They're on the study of magic, mostly. There's also books on logic and philosophy. But no fiction."

"Feel free to read any book you like," said Eleanor. "I'm su—"

There was a shrill scream from the north end of the castle.

_CRASH!_

"What was—"

_BARK! BARK!_

"Ai_leen_—"

"Oh, damn it!" Aileen shouted. She whirled around and nearly ran into a chair.

"Aileen! Language!"

Aileen darted out of the library and sprinted toward the kitchen. The crash they had heard was the clatter of pots and pans falling to – and probably cracking upon – the ground. She heard frantic yelling and screaming from Nan and the servants, and the clamour escalated as she came closer to the kitchen.

"—at bloody mutt _out_ o' the larder!" Nan was shouting when Aileen arrived. Aileen halted in the doorway.

"He won't let us near!" one of the Elven servants yelled over the barking. She looked at Aileen with panicked eyes. The kitchen was in disarray and several pieces of food lied on the ground outside the larder. Richter was barking madly.

"_You!_" Nan shouted at Aileen. "Git yer mongrel _out_ o' my kitchen!"

"He's _not_ a mongrel!" Aileen shouted back. "He's a purebred mabari!"

"I don't care what he is! Just git him out o' 'ere, or I'll quit!"

Aileen began to protest but she bit her tongue. Arguing at this point would do no good. She approached the larder and saw that it was an absolute mess in there. It looked like there was bloody meat on the floor.

"Richter!" Aileen called in her attention-getting voice.

The hound barely noticed his mistress and he continued barking.

"_Richter_."

Now he settled down a bit, for he knew what that tone of voice meant.

"Sit. Now."

He didn't. Aileen noticed that the bloody meat was all over his face, too.

"Richter, I said _sit!_"

He hesitated, then sat down, whimpering. He kept looking behind him, starting to get up and sitting down again. Aileen knew there was something wrong… Richter rarely tried to disobey the commands she gave. She stepped inside the larder and followed her mabari's eyes.

"Is that a _rat?!_" Aileen asked, mouth agape.

"_What?!_" Nan shrieked.

"What is going on?!" Eleanor, who had finally arrived, asked. Neria was not with her.

"It's dead," Aileen said. She took a few more wary steps into the larder. It was the largest rat she'd ever seen: it had to be the length of her forearm, _at least._ Dark blood was pooled around it.

"Did you do that?" Aileen asked her mabari.

Richter barked sharply.

Now, Aileen realized that Richter had blood and rat… flesh… on his face, not food, and that the bloody 'meat' on the floor was rat entrails. Her stomach lurched. She walked farther in, and found more dead giant rats. But the food had not been touched, aside from getting knocked over.

"Richter, did you get all of them?"

He barked proudly, and panted.

Aileen rolled her eyes. "All right, let's take you out of here." Aileen put her hand on Richter's head and led him out of the larder. He began licking his face.

"Licking 'is chops, I sees," Nan said. "Prob'ly helped 'imself to roast after killin' those things."

"Actually, Nan, he did not eat any of the food," Aileen said. She did not want to explain what was actually on his face.

"But he prob'ly led those rats in 'ere in the first place!"

"Lora," Eleanor said, trying to calm her down, "we don't know that. But I _do_ wonder how he got out of your room, Aileen." She gave her daughter a stern look.

Aileen thought about this. _I __**thought **__I locked the door when I left… _She shrugged. "I… do not remember leaving my door open. Mabari are smart, though. He might have opened the door himself."

"I doubt that," Nan scoffed. "Dogs aren't 'at smart."

"_Normal_ dogs are not. But all you have to do to open my door is turn the handle," Aileen explained. It was no use. Nan was beyond reason. "Honestly, I might have left it open," she finally said, hoping Nan would be happy with her taking the fall. "It will not happen again, I promise."

"It better not! Next time I really will quit!" Nan threatened to skin the Elves if they did not get back to work, and Eleanor and Aileen took that as their cue to let Nan do her job.

"I do wish Nan would stop treating Elves the way she does," said Aileen.

"She is too stuck in her ways to do any differently," Eleanor said with a sigh.

Now Neria's earlier behaviour fell into place. "Do you think that is why Neria is so timid – because she knows Elves are treated differently?"

"I think you should ask her that," Eleanor replied.

Aileen sighed. "I should clean up Richter."

"_Not_ in your tub, if you please."

"Of course not." Aileen turned to her mother. "I am… glad to have talked to you," she said.

Eleanor smiled. "As am I." She took her daughter's hand and squeezed it. "Now, get your hound clean."

"Yes, Mother."

Aileen led Richter to her room so she could retrieve some rags and soap from her closet. But when she arrived, she saw that the handle to her door was completely broken.

"Rich_ter_!" Aileen whined. She knelt to look more closely at the damage. "I _did_ lock my door, and you busted the lock _and_ the handle!"

Richter whined back at his mistress.

Aileen rubbed her face with her hands. "I will have this repaired later. Right now, you are getting a bath."

)-(

After Richter was bathed and dried, Bryce asked Aileen to come into his office.

"Am I in trouble again?" Aileen asked her father. Aileen expected her father to grin or laugh at her question, but he did neither.

"No. But what I have to say is for your ears alone." Bryce rubbed his face with both his hands. "You will be in charge of Highever when Rendon and I leave tomorrow. Did I tell you that yet?"

"No, but Mother did."

"She did?" Bryce nodded slowly. "Did she tell you anything else?"

"She said that she would be leaving in a few days, but that is it."

"Hmm," Bryce sounded. "Will you be all right by yourself?"

"I… believe so."

"You sound hesitant."

Aileen sighed. "I am, I suppose. I have never done this before, much less without supervision…" _I know how to run things around here_, she thought, _but what if I have a question? What if there's something I do not know? What if_—

Bryce smiled. "Nervous?"

"Yes."

"It sounds like you _want _Eleanor here."

Aileen looked directly into her father's eyes. "I do."

"Ah, are we doing better?"

Aileen nodded. "Aye, ser."

"Good." Bryce sighed. "Then the real reason you're in here is to discuss the details of the castle, before the troops leave tonight." He paused. "First, you need to know that there will only be two platoons of soldiers left here."

"One _hundred_ men?!" Aileen exclaimed.

Bryce cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow.

Aileen's eyes widened slightly. "Sorry," she whispered. "But we normally have one hundred men here in the castle _alone._"

Bryce solemnly nodded.

"How is that going to work?"

He smiled. "Well, I was hoping you would tell me," he said, folding his arms over his chest.

_Oh_, thought Aileen. _If I'm going to be in charge, I have to figure this out on my own._ She thought back to her lessons, and how the normal number of soldiers were divided in Highever. "What if we did… twenty men in the castle?"

"Why so few?"

"Because we will not need many here – only enough to watch over the vault and guard the gate and such."

Bryce nodded. "Continue."

"And fifty for the city, since we need men enough to keep peace and to prevent crime—" Aileen stopped abruptly. "Will the City Guard still be here?" she asked.

"Most of them, yes," he replied. "Only the ones who are fully-trained soldiers are coming with us, and that is not very many."

Aileen nodded. "All right. I still want to have fifty men in the city. Taxes will need to be collected soon."

Bryce smiled. "You're doing well."

Aileen chuckled. "My lessons were not for naught," she said. "And the final thirty men will be divided between the farms and roads. I know it is a lot of land to cover, but there will not be much traffic along the North Road, at this time of the year, and there are no crops growing."

"Then why so many men out there?" Bryce questioned.

"Because I do not want the farmers to feel like we abandoned them," Aileen explained. "They need to feel secure, or they will protest."

Bryce smiled again. "Excellent. I will make the arrangements before Fergus leaves—speaking of which, it is almost nightfall. You should probably say your good-byes to him. I will fetch Eleanor."

"Aye, I shall." Aileen had heard Fergus in his room when she had passed it earlier, so she headed there. She knocked on his door and waited.

"Come in," her brother called.

When Aileen opened the door, Oren ran and hugged her around the waist.

"Auntie!" Oren greeted. "Is Father really leaving tonight?"

"Yes, Oren," Aileen replied. "Are you leaving soon, Fergus?—"

"Mama says you're going to be watching over us while Papa is gone," Oren said, nearly interrupting her. "Is that true, Auntie?"

Aileen smiled. "Yes, that is correct."

"What if the castle is attacked?!" he gasped. "Will there be dragons?! That would be so exciting!"

_**What**__ have they been talking about in here?_ Aileen wondered.

"_No,_ Oren," Oriana chided. "Dragons are terrible creatures. They _eat_ people."

"Yeah! I want to see one!" Oren withdrew, put his arms out and 'flew' in a small circle, roaring. Fergus and Aileen chuckled quietly together.

Oriana scoffed. "This is _your_ influence, Fergus."

"What are you talking about?" Fergus asked his wife. "I didn't say anything."

Oren came to a sudden halt. "Can you teach me to use a sward, Auntie? That way I can fight evil, too!"

"I think that's up to—"

"—Take that, dire bunny! All darkspawn fear my sword of truthiness!"

Aileen tried her best to stifle her laughter. Oren _hated_ it when people laughed at him. She cleared her throat. "Truthiness, really?" she whispered.

"We're teaching him about honesty," Oriana replied.

"And doing a fine job of it, I might add," Bryce said as he came in.

Eleanor was right behind him, and she hugged Fergus. "Are you leaving now?"

Fergus nodded. "Aye, in a few minutes, I am."

"Then be well, my son," said Eleanor. "I will pray for your safety every day you are gone."

"I keep telling you, no darkspawn will ever best me," Fergus said.

"Fergus will be fine," Aileen added, more for her own benefit than his or Eleanor's. _He __**has**__ to be all right_…

Fergus hugged Aileen next. "Don't botch up anything around here, or I'll have to come back up here and throttle you," he said with a chuckle.

_Puh-leez_, Aileen thought. She guffawed. "And if you die down there, I'll kill you."

Fergus laughed again. "Let me know how that goes."

"Oh, do not worry. I will."

Fergus gave one last kiss to Oriana and Oren, and he and Bryce left the room together.

Despite his earlier excitement, Oren sniffled. "I miss Papa already, Mama," he said. He turned to his mother and rested his head on her side. Oriana rubbed Oren's back.

"So do I," Oriana said quietly.

Eleanor forced a smile. "Well, it has certainly been an eventful day. I think I shall retire now; and you should too, Aileen. You have another big day tomorrow."

"I will, soon," said Aileen. She bade her mother good-night.

"If you need help with anything around the castle, let me know," Oriana said to Aileen.

Aileen smiled. "I would not dare ask you for help in your state," she said.

Oriana snorted, but her face quickly turned to sadness. She placed her hand on her round belly. "Fergus said, if he doesn't come back before the baby is born, I should name him without him."

"It could be a girl, you know," Aileen teased.

"Fergus has his heart set on another boy," said Oriana. "Anyway, I should get Oren to bed, and let you rest, too."

"Good-night," said Aileen. "I shall see you both tomorrow!"

* * *

Author's Note: Long chapter is long. I'm not sorry :P. This was my favourite chapter to write thus far. I don't know why. Plus, I like the way the title has a bit of a poetic ring to it.  
If you did not pick up fully on the "Cousland's telltale sign of fibbing" in the previous chapter, I'll just tell you what the signs are. The cheek-biting means that what is being said is, generally, an outright lie. When one of them bites on the "inside flesh behind [the bottom] lip," what is being said is a half-lie (or only partially true, if you're a glass half-full kind of person :P ). As with most less-talented liars, eyebrows and lips sometimes twitch, but those signs are less noticeable if one is not watching carefully. Lip-biting (on the actual lips, and not on the inside of the mouth) can also imply nervousness or attraction, as with the saying that, if a girl bites on her lip, it means she is biting back a kiss.  
About the snow… I do not think it is unreasonable for that much snow to fall in a couple weeks' time. I remember, as a girl, we had a blizzard overnight that kept us from leaving our house, because the snow was 7 feet (2[-ish] metres) deep. And characters in the game are always complaining about how 'cold and harsh' Ferelden is… Even though we don't see snow in the game, I'm putting it in here because it's winter, and it's Ferelden. There shall be snow. :P  
* Two feet is 0.61 metres; six feet is 1.82 metres  
**Five feet, four inches is 1.63 metres. I decided to use feet because I do not really know how to express height in metres… I'm an American. We're dumb and like to use our U.S. measurements that no one else uses.  
Thanks to **alyssacousland**, **AnaOakenshield**, **CouslandSpitFire**, **Graymalkyn**, **KitKat Cousland**,** Melysande**, **Morninglight**, and **TaiKee** for their reviews! Y'all are awesome. :)


	7. Ch 5 - A Traitor in Our Midst (updated)

Author's Note: This chapter was technically published already; however, I decided I wanted to do something different with a certain scenario. People who have read this already will notice the difference, which I will not point out here so as to keep from spoiling the story for newcomers. After the first part, the rest of the chapter is the same, so if people have read it already, feel free to skip the rest. I don't know whether those who reviewed Chapter 5 already will be able to submit a new review or not. If you have any thoughts, please, PM me!

**Chapter 5 – A Traitor in Our Midst**

_Aileen F. Cousland_

Aileen felt as though she had only _just_ closed her eyes when Richter's barking awoke her.

"Rich_ter_," Aileen whined, "be quiet." She pulled her pillow from under her head and placed it on her face.

Richter kept barking madly. He jumped onto Aileen's bed—

"_Ow!_" Aileen screeched. Richter jumped off just as quickly as he had jumped on. She threw the covers off and glanced toward the window. "It's still dark outside! First the kitchen, and now this?!"

Richter stood ready at Aileen's door. The two of them heard a scream from across the hall, and Richter growled menacingly. _What… was… that?_ Aileen was stumbling around her bed, still barely awake, when the door suddenly flew open. Aileen screamed and jumped back, but Richter was hit by the door. He rolled over and fell limp.

"_Richter!_" Aileen cried. She barely noticed that an arrow had whizzed by just shy of her ear, and that another man was racing toward her with daggers drawn. She was frozen in shock, and one of the daggers slashed across her left cheek, drawing blood. Richter got to his feet and shook his head a couple times, and he charged toward the dagger-wielding man. The man smirked and kicked Richter out of the room, and he grabbed a paralysed Aileen and slammed her into the door, shutting it and keeping Richter from reentering. She screamed again.

"Please, _please!_" she cried.

The man who had maneouvred Aileen into a vulnerable position chuckled – a low and evil sound. "Please, what?" he taunted.

Aileen recognised that voice… but the man was too close for her eyes to focus on his face. "Please…" _Don't rape me_, was all she could think. She knew it was a terrible thing to think, but her well-being was the only thing on her mind. _Please, don't hurt me, pleasedon'thurtmedon'thurtmedon'thurtme_.

"Rape you?"

_Did I say that out loud?_

"Oh, no, I would _never_ touch a _Cousland_ like that." He snorted. "I don't know why _anyone_ ever would."

When she realised he was not going to cut her throat, (at least, not right at this moment,) the initial trauma began to wear off and Aileen started to piece the bits of information together. She knew she recognised this man's voice. She knew he was insulting her due to her surname. She also knew she had caught a glimpse of some sort of animal-crest on the arm of this man. A… lion? No. A bear, perhaps?

_A bear._

Aileen's eyes snapped open.

"Thomas Howe."

He smirked. "So, finally able to think, are we?"

She heard Richter barking outside. She also heard the sounds of battle and fire burning. "What are you doing?" Aileen demanded.

"I don't think you're in a position to demand _anything_ of me," Thomas growled. He dug his arm into Aileen for emphasis, and held his dagger up to the laceration on her cheek. He pressed the blade against the wound, drawing more blood, and Aileen screamed again. Tears rolled down her cheeks and they stung the open flesh.

"Now, that's better," said Thomas. His arm pressed a little harder. "Tell me where your father is," he snarled.

"I don't know!"

"That's a lie!" He yelled. Thomas moved his arm farther up and pushed against her throat. Aileen gasped for air. "TELL ME WHERE HE IS!"

Aileen clutched at his arm and tried desperately to claw at his flesh; but since Thomas was wearing armour, her efforts were in vain. _Why is he doing this? Why does he need Father? Where is Mother? What happened to Richter? Oren, Oriana?!_ The questions zipped through her mind as she put every effort into trying to loosen Thomas's arm from her throat. Her vision was becoming fuzzy from the tears and lack of oxygen. _Think, Aileen, think!_

"Of course you should know that I'm the one who broke your door yesterday," said Thomas. "I wanted it to be easy to get in here. Your mutt gave me quite the scare, though. I was worried—"

_Oh, Richter, I'm so sorry…_

"—two and two together. Fortunately, you never did. And now—"

_Think, __**think!**__ Your arms are free…_

"—rid of you and your miserable family for good." He laughed humourlessly.

_You're a warrior, Aileen! You're stronger than Thomas._

Aileen felt consciousness slipping away from her. "Wait," she choked through gritted teeth.

"Hmm?" Thomas loosened his arm only slightly.

She gasped and choked on the newfound air. "_Please_, I'll—tell you where Father is." Aileen lightly pulled on Thomas's arm.

"Oh, no. Clearly, you can talk just like this. Spit it out."

_Maker, please, let him believe me… _"He'll be with the vault," she lied, "—southern part of the castle."

"Is it guarded?" Thomas pressed.

"Most—likely."

"Hmm." Thomas kept his arm against her throat, but he finally lowered the blade from her cheek. "Father said—"

Aileen quickly changed the position of her hands and pushed Thomas's arm as hard as she could—he was not expecting her to do that, and his arm flew back and hit his nose, breaking it. Thomas dropped his daggers and grasped his nose, and Aileen took the opportunity to pull his shoulders down and knee him in the stomach. Thomas stood up and threw a punch. His fist caught Aileen on her face and she heard a distinct _CRACK_ come from her right cheekbone. Aileen resisted the dizziness threatening to overtake her and saw that Thomas had retrieved his daggers. He slashed down with one and Aileen dodged it; he cut across with the other, and since Aileen could not back away, she blocked his arm with her own, and she threw an uppercut with her free hand. The blow connected with Thomas's jaw, and he stumbled, releasing one of his daggers. Aileen scrambled for the free blade and felt sharp metal slice across her forearm. She cried out in pain and blocked Thomas's incoming blow—Thomas gasped suddenly and froze. Aileen looked down…

"Andraste's blood!" she whispered when she saw the dagger which now resided in Thomas's gut. Aileen's hands began shaking. She let go of the dagger's pommel and backed away quickly before she tripped and fell on her bum. She watched as Thomas's face contorted from shock to pain, from pain to anger, and back to pain. He fell to his knees, dropped the dagger he had been holding, and grabbed the hilt of the weapon inside his body.

"No, _don't!_" Aileen screeched. "You'll bleed out!"

Thomas stared wide-eyed at the Cousland girl before letting himself fall down on his back.

"Oh, no… no no no no no _no!_" Aileen crawled over to Thomas. "_Please_, no! I did not—I didn't…"

"Aileen! Aileen, where are you?"

Aileen did not respond. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Her door flew open seconds later, and Eleanor and Richter entered. The hound growled at Thomas.

"Maker's breath!" Eleanor exclaimed. She stared in shock at the sight before her – Thomas severely injured, and Aileen in a state of near-panic.

"Aileen!" Eleanor waved her hand in front her daughter's face and snapped to get her attention. "Aileen, can you hear me?"

Aileen nodded. "Yes," she replied with a shaky voice.

Eleanor grabbed Aileen's hands. "This can't all be _your_ blood!"

Aileen looked down. The blood gushing out of her arm was her own, but the blood on her hands was Thomas's. Eleanor touched her daughter's bloody cheek, and Aileen withdrew in pain. Eleanor stood and rapidly began fumbling through her daughter's furniture. She retrieved a small balm and quickly began applying it to Aileen's face.

"Ow!"

"Hold still!" Eleanor chided. "Head wounds bleed the worst, and we cannot have you losing this much blood. Where else?"

Aileen rolled back the sleeve of her nightgown so the cut on her forearm was visible. Eleanor applied the balm there, as well.

Aileen took a deep breath. "Mother?"

"Yes?"

"Is he… going to be all right?"

Eleanor looked at Thomas and scoffed. "That is not important."

"But he could die!"

Eleanor sighed. "And suddenly war is not so exciting, is it?"

Aileen's eyebrows drew together. "How…?"

"Bryce told me, of course."

Aileen took a deep breath. It took another moment to realise that Eleanor was wearing leather armour and that she had a longbow slung on her back.

"Do you know where Bryce is?" Eleanor asked. "He never came to bed."

"No, but I have a feeling he will be in the main hall or near the servants' exit." Suddenly, Aileen gasped. "Howe's men were delayed on purpose!" she exclaimed. "Why are they doing this?"

Eleanor pointed to the boy on the floor. "Ask _him_."

Aileen gazed at Thomas, who seemed to be drifting away from consciousness. She swallowed. "Are Oren and Oriana—"

"I have not checked yet."

"Then let's go," said Aileen. She quickly threw off her bloody nightclothes, heedless of the boy in her room, and took only a fraction of a second to decide to wear her chainmail instead of her leather armour… Maker knew she would need protection tonight.

"I'm going to check on them," Eleanor said when Aileen was nearly dressed.

"Richter, go with her."

Richter barked his reply to Aileen, and he ran off after Eleanor. After Aileen had assembled her armour, she glanced in the mirror, and gasped. _My face…_ she thought, in vanity. She heard a wail from across the hall.

_Oh, no…_ "Mother?!" Aileen snatched her greatsword and glanced at the unconscious Thomas once more before she dashed out of her room. _Please, __**please **__be okay_. The smoke from the fire stung her eyes, and the air felt hot and dry.

"No, _no!_" Eleanor cried. "Poor Fergus!"

Aileen found a grisly sight inside, and tears spilled from her eyes. Oriana's throat had been slit and her abdomen had been slashed open; Oren looked as though a sword had been run straight through him. Neither of them was moving. _That was the scream I heard_, Aileen 's sorrow transformed into rage. _All these Howes are the same_, she thought.

"Maker's breath!" someone exclaimed, and it was not Eleanor.

Aileen turned around and saw that Neria was standing there, staff in hand. Her robes were torn in several places and she had blood and dirt smeared on her sweaty face.

"Mother, let's go," Aileen said, pulling on her mother's arm. Eleanor had been kneeling, weeping, and she stood up.

"What manner of fiend slaughters innocents?!" Eleanor asked with a sob.

"Wait a moment!" Neria said, stepping into the room.

"For what?!" Aileen snapped. She glared at Neria.

"The boy…" said Neria. She pushed past Aileen and knelt down next to Oren. She placed her hands over him and a bluish, sort-of-lavender light emanated from her hands. After an agonizing minute, Oren breathed and coughed, but he did not wake up. Neria stood, but stumbled and nearly fell over. She looked exhausted.

"Oh, thank the Maker!" Eleanor said. She knelt again and took Oren in her arms.

"Oriana…?" Aileen asked, hoping Neria could do the same for her. She noticed that fresh blood had trailed down from Neria's nose.

Neria shook her head. "She is too far gone. The boy was only… mostly dead, I suppose you could say. His… spirit still lingered here."

Aileen nodded slowly. _And Oriana's did not_, she thought, finishing was Neria did not was breathing but his eyes were not open. "Thank you," Aileen said, "for saving him."

Neria nodded. "We have to get moving. Duncan sent me to get you and said we should head to the main hall as soon as possible."

"Who will carry Oren, then?" Aileen asked quickly. "Mother?"

"I will," Neria offered. "You two fight." She held out her arms and Eleanor reluctantly lifted Oren into them. Once Oren was situated on Neria's hip and his arms were around her neck, she said, "Let's go, and fast!"

Aileen nodded and turned around. _Time to teach these bastards a lesson,_ she thought, drawing her weapon. "I'll lead; Neria, you stay in the back; Mother, watch both our backs; Richter, stay with me. We need to get to the servants' exit." Eleanor nodded, Richter barked, and they set off.

What Aileen had not realised was that the smoke in the air was the least of her worries – the fires causing it seemed to be _everywhere._ Nearly every piece of furniture and tapestry had been set aflame, and several passages – including the direct route to the servants' exit – were blocked off. Aileen felt a sob threatening to escape at the sight of her burning home, but she choked it back and pressed on. They had to fight our way through the castle: Howe's men were _everywhere._ Richter and Eleanor handled most of the archers, while Aileen fought the swordsmen. The chainmail had been a good idea, as Aileen could only really receive bruises unless a blade or arrow landed in a vulnerable spot; and she managed to keep her face from receiving further damage. The cut she already had would be a nasty scar eventually. _There goes my flawless skin. _Aileen had counted six Cousland soldiers that were dead. _That means there are only fourteen left, __**if**__ they still live_, she thought. _Stupid me, deciding twenty men would be enough_.

"Wait!" Eleanor said at one point. "The vault! We cannot let Howe get his hands on the family blade!"

"Does that really matter in a time like this?!" Neria asked. She had to yell over the roaring fire and sounds of battle. She adjusted Oren on her hip and glanced between the two Cousland women.

"Yes, it does," Aileen snapped without a second of thought. "Do you have the key?" she asked her mother.

Eleanor nodded. They turned down the hall leading to the vault and saw that the men who had been guarding the vault were dead; and although the vault door showed signs of attempts to break it open, it remained intact. _Clearly, Thomas himself did not come down here_, Aileen thought, _or he would have known I was lying._ Eleanor used the key she had and Aileen grabbed both the family blade and shield. She sheathed the former in the scabbard on her belt and strapped the latter to her back.

When they finally made it to the main hall, chaos resided within. Many men – both Cousland and Howe – lied dead; and Eleanor and Aileen immediately threw themselves into the battle. Aileen noticed that some Cousland men were bathed in a blue-purple light temporarily, and that a few Howe men were surrounded in a same-coloured field that seemed to paralyse them. The ladies' reinforcement turned the tide of battle in their favour; and at last, the Howe soldiers were defeated. There were nine men, including Ser Gilmore, one of the knights, left standing after the battle. Duncan and Ser Jory were also here. Both of them were bleeding heavily, and Neria carried the unconscious Oren with her as she went to them.

"Close those doors, and bar them!" Ser Gilmore yelled. "Barricade them! Keep those bastards out as long as you can!" He looked close to collapsing, but he stood straight and turned to the Cousland ladies. "I'm so relieved you're all right," he said to them.

"And thank the Maker _you're _alive," said Eleanor.

"Just barely," said Ser Gilmore. He was holding his arm, trying to stop blood from flowing out. "When I realised what was happening, it was all I could do to shut the doors… but it was too late. I was worried we'd let some of Howe's men get through to you."

"They _did_ get through," said Aileen, "or found some other way into the castle." She swallowed. "Neria helped us save Oren, but…" She did not finish the sentence.

Ser Gilmore sighed. "My ladies… I am so sorry." He rubbed his face with the back of his hand and succeeded in rubbing more blood onto it. He sighed and held onto his arm again.

"Where is Bryce?" Eleanor urgently asked. "We must find him."

Ser Gilmore winced. "The Teyrn was badly injured… He went to the servant's exit, hoping to find you there."

"I figured that was where he would be," Aileen said.

"Aileen, we must go, now," Eleanor said quickly.

"We'll stay here and try to buy you some time," Ser Gilmore said. Just as he said that, the doors shook with a large _THUD_.

"We can get some of you out alive, can't we?" Aileen pleaded. "They might die here. Mother!"

"This is our job," Ser Gilmore said. "You ladies and Oren are the important ones here. You _have_ to get out with your lives."

"And… what of us?" Neria asked. She had handed Oren off to Ser Jory – she looked like she could barely stand, and Duncan was supporting her. "How are _we_ getting out of here?"

"Neria," Duncan said softly, "we will make it out of here." He nodded to Eleanor, who was eagerly waiting for Aileen to join her. "Let's go."

"Thank you," Aileen said to Ser Gilmore. She smiled sadly at him. _It is not fair for all of these people to sacrifice their lives for us_, Aileen thought. She drew her sword again. "I will come back for you… _all of you_," she promised the Cousland soldiers. She could only hope…

Aileen led, with Richter by her side, Eleanor behind, and the injured Grey Wardens trailing. They had to carve their way through more soldiers before they reached the kitchen, and that worried Aileen. _What if they entered __**through**__ the servants' exit?_ she wondered. _What if they already killed Father?_

The closer they came to their destination, the more blood on the stone Aileen saw. It left a trail all the way to the servants' exit in the larder, where two of Howe's men lied dead with a bloodied, discarded sword not far from them.

"There… you are," Bryce said when they entered. He coughed repeatedly and tried to clear his throat.

"Bryce!" Eleanor cried and ran to him.

Aileen gasped when she saw her father lying in a pool of his own blood. There were some linen bandages on the floor, and Aileen could tell that Bryce had tried to tie the cloth around his middle to stop the bleeding, but had failed. Aileen knelt next to him and started wrapping the bandages around him. _Please, please do not die,_ she thought.

"Howe's men… almost… did me in right there," said Bryce. He tried to smile and laugh, but only succeeded in coughing more… and this time, he coughed up blood. "He… _can't_ get away with this! The king will—Ugnh!" He bent over and clutched at the wound in his side.

"_I'll _kill Howe for what he has done," Aileen said. Her voice was filled with hatred.

"Bryce?" Eleanor pleaded. "Bryce, honey, stand up. We have to get you out of here."

Bryce tried to smile again. "I… won't survive the standing, I think."

Aileen was trying not to notice the amount of blood in which she had knelt, and the discolour of Bryce's face, but they were impossible to ignore. "N—nonsense! You'll be fine!" Tears rolled down her cheeks. _Please, please…_

"Ah… my… _darling_ girl… if only will could make it so," Bryce said sadly. "It is… too late… for me."

"No, it is _not!_" Aileen insisted. "Neria is… some sort of healer." She turned around. "You can save him, can't you?"

Neria shook her head slowly, regretfully. "I can't."

"Can't or won't?" Aileen asked angrily.

"Darling," said Eleanor, "if she could save Bryce, she would, wouldn't she?" She glanced at the mage.

Neria nodded weakly. "But I _can't_."

There was a _THUD_ from the main hall which made the walls vibrate.

Eleanor turned to Bryce, and frantically, she said, "Once Howe's men break through the gates, they will find us! We must _go_."

Bryce shook his head and looked at Aileen. "_You_… must go. Find Fergus… tell him what has happened—" Bryce groaned loudly. "Duncan…" Bryce winced when he turned his head. "I _beg _you… take my family to safety."

_No!_ Aileen screamed internally.

"I'm not leaving without you, Bryce!" Eleanor cried, but it seemed as though Bryce barely heard her.

Duncan approached, still supporting a weak Neria. "I will, your Lordship, but… I fear I must ask something in return."

"Anything!" said Bryce.

"What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil now loose on this world," said Duncan. "I came to your castle seeking recruits, and the darkspawn threat demands I leave with as many as possible."

Bryce turned his gaze to his daughter. "I… understand," he said.

Aileen's face contorted in shock. "Wait a moment! Are you talking about _me?_ But—But what about Fergus? And Howe?! He must pay for what he has done!"

"The king will see justice done," Duncan replied. "But Grey Wardens must face darkspawn above all else, even revenge." He looked back at Bryce. "I will take your family to Ostagar, to tell Fergus and the king what has happened. Then, your daughter joins the Grey Wardens."

"So long as justice comes to Howe… I agree." Bryce groaned again. He had lost so much blood…

"No, no! Do I not have a say in this?!" Aileen begged.

"Listen, Pup," Bryce said. The nickname immediately caught Aileen's attention. "You are"—he coughed some more blood—"a Cousland. _We_… are Couslands… and we do what must be done. The darkspawn _must_ be defeated. You must go… for your own sake… and for Ferelden's."

"No, I will not leave you here!"

"Darling," said Eleanor, "go with Duncan. You have a better chance of escape without me."

"No!" Aileen cried.

"Eleanor—"

"Hush, Bryce." Eleanor caressed her ailing husband's face. "I'll kill every bastard that comes through that door to buy them time. But I won't abandon you."

"No, Mother!" Aileen almost screeched. "You cannot sacrifice yourself like this!"

Eleanor smiled sadly. "My place is with your father. At his side, to death and beyond."

Bryce groaned. "Then go, Aileen. Warn your brother… and know that we both love you. You do us proud."

Tears blurred Aileen vision. "No, no, _please!_"

There was a loud _CRASH_ which came from the main hall, and lots of shouting. Richter started barking.

"They've broken through the gates," Duncan said. "We must go, _now._" He grabbed Aileen's arm.

"Mother… I'm so _sorry_," Aileen sobbed as Duncan forced her to her feet.

"I know," said Eleanor, looking at Aileen. "It is forgiven." She made eye contact with Duncan and pointed to the exit. "Now _go._"

"I love you both!" Aileen cried as Duncan dragged her away.

Once they had made it outside, Aileen saw that, compared to the castle, the coast looked calm and peaceful.

"Where do we go?" Duncan asked. He scanned the horizon and looked from left to right. He looked at Aileen, who did not speak.

"I _think_ there's some alleys we should be able to get through without trouble," said Ser Jory after a moment. Aileen noted that it was the first he had spoken all night… or morning… whatever it was, and probably only because she had not said anything.

"You… are correct," said Aileen. "Let me have Oren." She wondered how he had remained unconscious through all this, and thought that perhaps Neria had cast some sort of spell to keep him asleep on purpose. "You lead, Ser Jory." As she was struggling to keep from openly weeping, Aileen knew she was in no condition to lead them to safety.

Ser Jory nodded. "We'll have to get around the castle, first," he said, and carefully helped Aileen situate Oren so she could carry him easily.

"Head west," said Aileen. "The gates are on the east side… and we cannot go that way. After that, the alleys of which you speak shouldn't be too far south."

"Aye, my lady."

Their progress was slow; for not only did they have to check every street the alleys crossed to make certain that they did not run into Howe's men, but they also were burdened. Oren felt as though he were gaining weight by the minute; Neria was barely able to stand; and Ser Jory was favouring his left leg. _What I would give for a horse, right now_, thought Aileen. _A horse, a horse! My kingdom for a horse… though my kingdom is not worth much, now._

Miraculously, the five of them were able to make it to the edge of Highever without running into any of Howe's soldiers.

"Where to now?" Ser Jory asked.

"South and west, I suppose," said Aileen.

"Hmm," Duncan sounded. "Ostagar is south and east of here, but heading east right now is not an option."

"We could head to Lake Calenhad," Neria offered. "There's an inn on the north side, and we could take a boat south to Redcliffe… didn't you say you needed to stop there, Duncan?"

"I did," the Rivaini man replied.

Aileen adjusted her nephew in her arms. "Would Arl Eamon be willing to watch Oren, do you think?"

Duncan nodded. "We certainly can't have him at Ostagar."

"Then let us be off," said Aileen. _With no horses, this will be a long journey_…

Author's Note: First off… *sigh* I did _not_ enjoy writing this chapter. I cried a little bit writing this… but I have also been going through some really hard stuff at home. And so… sad chapter plus sad life equals sad Blondie.

Second, I made a terrible error in the Prologue and in Chapter 4 of this fan fiction. For some reason, I was under the impression that Amaranthine was west of Highever, which would make it closer to Orlais… but Amaranthine is, in fact, east of Highever and just north of Denerim. So… all that to say, if there were trade between Orlais and Ferelden, it would transpire in Highever, not Amaranthine. Please excuse my mistake.

Third, sorry for the _Princess Bride_ and Shakespeare's _Richard III_ quotes. I couldn't help myself.

Fourth, it will be some time before the next chapter is published. There is an important one-shot that will accompany this fic, called, _Always the Lesser Man_, which I need to write before I put out the next chapter. If you have not added me to your Author Alert list, please do, so you won't miss that one-shot!

Fifth, I want to thank **alyssacousland**, **CouslandSpitFire**, **Graymalkyn**, **Melysande**, and **Taikee** for their continued reviews and support. Thank you, also, to everyone who has followed and/or favorited this fic. I appreciate it more than you know!


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